


Never Gonna Be Alone

by Chickensarentcheap



Series: Tyler and Esme's story [4]
Category: Chris Hemsworth-Fandom, Extraction (2020), Tyler Rake-fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 166,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickensarentcheap/pseuds/Chickensarentcheap
Summary: A lot changes in five years.  Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City.  With  Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving.  Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore.  But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.
Relationships: Tyler Rake & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tyler and Esme's story [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754608
Comments: 27
Kudos: 20





	1. PROLOGUE

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search. 

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else. 

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone. 

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong. 

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill. 

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths. 

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen. 

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device. 

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.” 

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind. 

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek. 

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace. 

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.


	2. Welcome to the Big Apple

His flight lands at JFK shortly before two in the afternoon. He’d slept for the better part of it; worn out from the lengthy hikes in the oppressive heat. Something to eat and a shower had done him some good. Easing the majority of tightness in his back and shoulders and tackling some of the swelling and pain in his right knee. It remains the proverbial thorn in his side; first replacement failing after only a year and a half and then having lengthy and painful recovery issues following the second one. He’ll never be able to fully straighten that leg or go a day without some swelling or pain. The surgeons had done the best they could under the circumstances; warning him of excessive and irreparable damage done to the surrounding ligaments and tendons and preparing him for a third surgery before he hits sixty. 

While miserable and hobbling at times, it’s still nowhere near as agonizing as what he’d been living with before. Ninety percent of his nights are spent sleeping straight through; very rarely is he woken by pain, nor does he have to resort to the alternating of hot and cold showers in effort of relieving some of the suffering. And there’s been no nightmares. Two and a half years of NOT having his rest disrupted by vivid and terrifying recollections of his times in Dhaka. THAT’S more of relief than the absence of pain; the troubles with his mind finally giving him reprieve thanks to a strict regime of medications and therapies. There’s been no manic or severely depressive moments; moods managed relatively well and healthy coping mechanisms long ago replacing the damaging and dangerous behaviours he’d once turned to. 

It helps to have a support system. Knowing there’s someone in your corner that will constantly cheer you on; never letting you get discouraged or allowing you to give up on yourself. Oftentimes...when things get particularly bad...willingly carrying some of the burden and despair themselves. Had it not been for her, he would have surrendered a long time ago. He would have easily resorted back to the booze and the drugs; his life empty and meaningless and not worth the effort and the oxygen it took to stay alive.

He woke an hour before landing and placed two calls. The first to Dylan’s Candy Bar; a favourite destination of the kids every time they make a trip to the Big Apple. It’s one of the places they insist on visiting at least twice. Shamelessly dropping nearly all their spending money given to them by their parents; filling their shopping bags to the brim with sweet treats and various trinkets. The order was simple; seven plastic buckets -each adorned with the kids’ favourite cartoon character or superhero- filled with their candy and chocolate of choice and gift certificates for the sundae bar. The second call is placed to the ‘go to’ local florist. Two dozen long stemmed sweetheart roses; white, pink, and purple. It makes him happy; being able to both surprise and spoil her. The latter always launches a protest on her behalf; reminding him that she isn’t a materialistic person and most certainly doesn’t expect or need expensive gifts. But he can’t help himself. While they live remarkably simple and low key in the grand scheme of things, it’s no secret that money is no longer an issue; their bank account will never run dry and there will always be cash -BIG cash- rolling in. And he feels she deserves to be spoiled and treated like a queen. Not only giving him seven kids in as many years, but staying by his side through thick and thin; never giving up on him -or the- even when things were their darkest and direst. 

She’s been with him from the humblest of beginnings; when he had absolutely nothing to offer her. Money had been scarce. Nearly all their combined savings used up on a mountain of medical bills; his long and painful recovery from Dhaka making any and all employment impossible. It was worrisome; wondering how the hell he’d keep a roof over her head and food in her pregnant belly. If he couldn’t manage THAT, how was he going to be able to properly care for a kid? They hadn’t had much back then; that tiny apartment outside of Sydney filled with used and mismatched furniture and barely any clothes in their closets. But she’d hung in there. Agreeing to marry him even though he couldn’t even afford to give her a ring, let alone a proper wedding. Loving him with every fibre of her being and always looking at him as if he was the most incredible man on earth; declaring that he made her feel safe and protected and that she’d never...EVER...felt that way before.

And that’s why he does. All of that blind faith and love and trust that she’s always possessed. The chances she’s given to him; forgiving him for all the broken promises and all the lies he told -never maliciously, only as a means of keeping her safe- and the times he fell off the wagon and went back to the booze and drugs. So many times she could have walked away; taken the kids and fled the country and made sure that he would never find them. But she never did. She never let it...HIM...break them. No matter how hard it got, no matter tears she shed, no matter how volatile the arguments or how many holes he punched in the walls, she never gave up. Even when she did kick him out, it hadn’t been a sign of defeat. It had been a warning; telling him that she wouldn’t allow someone like him in her children’s lives and he needed to clean up his act. He’s still ashamed that it took as long as it had. Six months spent wallowing in his self pity and despair; twenty four weeks away from his family because he was too scared and too weak to face his problems head on and try to solve them. And she’d taken him back; a tearful phone call in the middle of the night begging him to come home. They’d stayed up until dawn; having the calm and rational heart to heart that they should have indulged in months..if not YEARS...ago. And finally he’d been ready to change; crying and begging for forgiveness and promising to do whatever it took to make things right again.

To make THEM right again.

Although Anil had arranged for a private car to take him home, he opts for a taxi instead. While he appreciates Anil's continued generosity, it’s far too ‘flashy’ for him; a black Lincoln with tinted windows pulling up into Gramercy Park will only draw attention from the neighbours. While everyone residing there is just as wealthy -if not more- things are still relatively low key; North American made SUVs and sedans in place of luxury models from overseas, no outward displays of disgusting riches and pompous attitudes. He knows he and his family are an enigma of sorts; nine of them from Australia showing up out of the blue and dropping huge cash -especially for what’s considered a young family- on a place that'd been on the market for nearly two years. Then spending an exorbitant amount of money transforming the three story townhome into exactly what they wanted. Adding a private and secluded back deck complete with a wet bar and a hot tub and an area for outdoor food prep and grilling. Blowing the one wall out in TJ and Tanner’s room; removing would have been a study in favour of turning it into built in queen sized bunk beds and enormous walk in closets with enough space for clothes and toys. And a home gym stocked with the best equipment money can buy and a top of the line sound system; ; an addition off the kitchen that had been a last minute decision. It had taken two years and a dozen trips to and from Australia and New York CIty to get everything just right. Finding joy in seeing just what all the hard work and seemingly endless shedding of blood, sweat, and tears, could actually bring to their family.

When he’s two blocks away he texts his wife, letting her know he’s mere minutes from their front gate. The three littlest love that final stretch; kneeling on the couch and pressing their noses against the living room window as they impatiently await his arrival. She’ll try to get boots and coats on them in time; more often than not chasing them out the front door with winter apparel in hand, shouting about the dangers of frostbite and hypothermia and how they don’t want to spend their entire Christmas break stuck in bed with the flu. It’s been an adventure; raising seven children. Definitely not for the faint of heart or those lacking in patience. There’s the frustrating moments; two or three throwing temper tantrums in unison, an often mouthy and rebellious pre-teen girl that makes her mother her primary target, a ten year old boy that has absolutely no fear; who indulges -and excels- in even the most aggressive of sports and gets bored and irritable if he isn’t keeping himself moving. It’s chaotic and it’s noisy. School mornings are a whirlwind of activity; breakfast for a family of nine, the oldest helping finish and pack lunches, mom and dad working on getting the less independent kiddos ready and out the door. But there’s a lot of fun under that roof; an endless supply of giggles and little arms always ready and willing to wrap you in a hug. The great times far out number the trying and exhausting ones; rewarded with kisses and cuddles and those crinkly eyed smiles.

And there’s a lot of love in that house. If the pain and the worry and the fear that his brush with death had five years ago had taught him anything, it’s that they truly are capable of getting through even the toughest of times. They ARE stronger together than they are apart; fighting through all the pain and all the tears and coming out the other side relatively unscathed. And they’ve become stronger; as individuals AND as a couple. Their marriage has never been healthier. Rational and calm discussions taking the place of often volatile arguments and taking every opportunity presented to them for ‘one on one time’; whether it be date nights or their evening walks along the beach or coffee out on the deck while the sun rises. Seamlessly and effortlessly working as a team when it comes to raising their children, but never forgetting how important it is to acknowledge the bond that exists between them. Not just as spouses and two people that made babies together, but as best friends and lovers and each other’s biggest supporters and most loyal confidants. Marriage therapy has turned out to be the best thing they ever could have agreed to; able to acknowledge their weaknesses as both a couple and as individuals. Opening their eyes to the little things that annoyed and often -unintentionally- hurt one another and tested the limits of their patience. 

Things aren’t perfect. But most days they seem damn close to it.

****

Clad in a cumbersome ski jacket and a pair of heavy and clunky winter boots, five year old Takota scrambles onto the living room couch. Leaning stomach first against the back cushion, he places his elbows along the top and heaves a long, forlorn sigh. “He’s late.”

Beside him -and already bundled into her own cold weather gear- Addie casts a glance towards the clock that graces the nearby fireplace mantle. “It’s only been eight minutes.”

“Mummy said he’d be here in FIVE minutes.”

“Maybe the traffic is bad. Maybe the cabbie is a really slow driver. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“I hope so.” Another dramatic sigh. “I wonder why daddy had to go away in the first place?” 

Addie twirls one of the braided tassels on her knitted hat around her index finger. “‘Cause Kota, he’s the boss and sometimes bosses have to go and boss people around. In person. Not just on the phone and through the computer.”

“Maybe he had to go and yell at them,” Takota suggests, and pushes his beanie towards the back of his head, then uses a forearm to clear beads of sweat from his brow. “His voice is REALLY loud when he yells. I bet he scared them . Do you think they cried?”

“I would cry if he yelled at me.”

“Daddy never yells at us. He doesn’t need to. He just gives us the stink eye. You know, ‘the look’.”

“The look is scarier than when he yells, I think. He yells at Millie sometimes.”

“That’s ‘cause she deserves it. We don’t. We’re just little. She’s big and mean. And bad. Really bad.”

“Who’s bad?” Brooklyn asks, soles of her boots loud against the laminate flooring as she clomps into the living room, then squeezes her tall and slender frame between the window and the back of the couch. 

“Millie,” her twin replies. “All the time.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s almost a teenager,” Brooklyn reasons. “All teenagers are bad.”

“I think it’s ‘cause she’s just a big bitch,” Addie declares.

Voices -especially high pitched little ones that don’t come with a volume switch or understand the meaning of the word ‘whisper’- travel easily through the main floor. Particularly through the open concept design that seamlessly combines living room and kitchen; high ceilings and easy to clean carpet free flooring. A definite must have with seven kids and two dogs. And as she stands at the kitchen island nursing a mug of tea, Esme’s eyebrows arch as she catches the profanity that slips from her soon to be six year old’s mouth. 

“Hey!” she calls, and drops her chin to her chest and narrows her eyes. “Language. Please.”

“Sorry,” Addie gives a sheepish grin, then turns back towards the window. “It’s true though.”

“Mum,” Takota turns to face the back of the couch; a pout on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. “You said he’d be here in five minutes. It’s been an hour.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” she informs him. “It’s snowing out. People forget how to drive when it’s snowing. Traffic is probably bad. Patience, young sir.”

“I don’t have any patience. I’m five, remember? Why did daddy have to go away again?”

“He had some business to take care of. Far away.”

“He’s been gone for like a year.”

“I know it seems that way, but he’s only been gone for four days. Five if you count the night he left.”

“Why’s he leave when we’re sleeping?” Brooklyn inquires, as she traces a fingertip along the edges of the paper snowflakes -done in various colours and sizes- that she and her siblings had created and taped to the glass the evening before. “Why doesn’t he wait to say bye to us?”

“Because most of the flights leave at night. It’s not personal.”

“He should at least wake us up,” Takota says. “I hate not getting to say bye to him.”

“I don’t know, I’m kinda of glad that he DOESN’T say bye,” Addie pipes up. “I’d cry for sure. It’s better if he goes when I’m asleep. So I don’t ugly cry.”

Their chatter turns to plans to build snowmen in the small expanse of backyard, hopes of going sledding, and excitement over the buckets of candy that had been delivered only thirty minutes earlier. The bouquet of flowers sits in the middle of the dining table; a stunning arrangement of long stemmed sweetheart roses in her favourite colours and accompanied by a card that simply reads: I LOVE YOU. While not a fan of grand romantic gestures, over the past five years he’s shown an increased propensity for these ‘out of the blue’ moments. It can be simple yet thoughtful and personal things. Her favourite cupcakes from the local bakery back home, flowers being delivered to the bookstore in the middle of the day, or him taking a break from seemingly endless hours of ‘in office’ work and showing up with lunch for the both of them. Just taking the time to be with her is what matters most to her; the affection he gives and effort he puts into making sure she realizes just how often she’s on his mind. And how much he appreciates her and loves her and truly can’t imagine his life without her. 

Then there’s the bigger and more elaborate things; the desire to spoil her every chance he gets, claiming it makes him happy to do so. She always protests. Reminding him that that’s NOT why she fell in love with him; marrying him when they both had very little yet their lives somehow seeming simpler and less stressful. But it just goes in one ear and out the other. his persistence and stubbornness always getting the upper hand. Showering her with jewelry and designer clothing and accessories; surprising with spa appointments and ‘girls weekends’ away with her sister. And then there’s the twice yearly ‘mommy and daddy only’ trips he insists they take. One always to their favorite getaway in Phuket, Thailand, and the other destination always kept a secret until they actually land. He says it makes him happy; being able to just randomly treat her to things they’d never been able to really afford before. Truly believing that she deserves to be spoiled; wanting a way to show how much he appreciates her and how grateful he is for the life she’s given him. A chance to prove he CAN be a good husband and father and that his past mistakes in no way to define who he truly is. And he always talks about how fortunate he is that he found a strong woman; someone that stuck around during even the hardest and darkest of times. Always loyal and faithful. Loving him when he didn’t make it easy to.

He’s come a long way in five years. THEY’VE come a long way. Both separately and as a couple. Therapy has made a world of difference; helping them get to the bottom of both individual issues and those causing friction and tension in their marriage. It had taken him a while to accept the idea of couples counselling; afraid that needing it was a sign that things were far worse than he thought they were Slowing coming around to the realization that it wasn’t because they had serious problems that had to be addressed, but because they needed to find ways to keep those issues from cropping up in the first place. Both had needed to be reminded that their roles in each other’s lives went far beyond just being spouses and raising children together. That the bond that existed between them surpassed what most normal couples could lay claim to. Best friends. Lovers. Each other’s most trusted confidants and most loyal and steadfast supporters. Once they began taking time out to spend together, they soon learned how to nourish those very different roles in each other’s lives. Their marriage started to see the benefits almost immediately; becoming stronger and their appreciation, gratitude, and love for another growing beyond anything either of them could imagine. 

“Momma?” Takota appears on the other side of the island, having to stand on his tiptoes to see over the countertop. Like his Tanner and Addie, he’s on the small side; not blessed with the tall and lanky genes that the others -including his twin sister- had been given. And like Tanner, he is soft spoken and serious; loving to spend time outdoors, yet preferring quieter pursuits. Very creative; indulging in painting and drawing and any form of craft that he can get his hands on. 

She glances up from the copy of the New York Times open in front of her. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Do you think daddy went away because he had to kill someone?”

“What?” She gives a startled chuckle. “Why would you…?”

“TJ said that daddy used to kill people. Before he became a boss. That he was a mer...mer…”

“Mercenary,” she finishes for him, then pushes the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and moves to the stove; stirring the contents of a simmering pot. One of Tanner’s many culinary creations; a rather creative mixture of chicken, taco seasons, and various vegetables. It’s his newfound passion; cooking and baking. And he insisted that some of that day’s lunch be left over so daddy could try it when he got home. 

The little things go both ways. She’s found her own ways of spoiling him and showing her gratitude and appreciation. Today it’s a warm meal and fresh, hot coffee and the hot tub on the back deck already bubbling; relief for what she knows will be an aching and weary body.

“Is it true? That he used to kill people? When he was one of those? A mercenrie?”

“Mercenary,” she slowly repeats. “And yeah, sometimes. Sometimes he DID have to.”

“Because they were bad people?”

“Very bad people.”

“Is that why he had to go away? To kill bad people?”

“I don’t know why. I didn’t ask for details. He just had to go away for a few days.” It isn’t entirely true. He did in fact head to Laos and Cambodia to do just THAT; two high profile drug and weapons smugglers with enormous price tags on their heads and lengthy lists of enemies. But he’d also said that there was ‘more to it’; things that she didn’t need to know. Details that made HIM extremely unsettled. Something THAT bad? He preferred not to place it upon her shoulders. 

“Is he going to go to hell? Because he killed people?”

“No.” She scoops some of the soup from the pot and holds it to her lips; aggressively blowing on it and then checking the temperature with the tip of her tongue before offering it to her son. 

Takota eagerly accepts the ‘snack’. “Are the people he killed going to hell?”

“How about we NOT talk about this? If you want to know those kinds of things, you ask daddy. He’ll be able to answer your questions a lot better than I will.”

“I think you’re just throwing him under the bus. Setting him up for failure. We BOTH know he won’t tell me.”

“You are way too smart for five. Taste good? The soup?”

“Really good. Tanner could be a really famous chef one day, I bet. I’m gonna be a lion tamer.”

Grinning, she moves back to the island and snags her mug; heating the tea with some of the remains sitting in the pot she had made earlier. “You are, are you?”

“Daddy said I could be whatever I want to be when I grow up. And I want to be a lion tamer. And maybe a dentist.”

“Both at the same time?”

“I can’t tame lions and fix teeth at the same time. That’s just weird.”

“Mum!” Brooklyn bellows from the living room, then begins pounding her palm against the window. “That weird guy is back again!”

“He’s talking to TJ,” Addie chimes in. “I think TJ is going to tell him off. TJ doesn’t like him. He thinks the guy’s an asshole.”

“Adeline! Language!” she scolds, and then turns the burner on the stove to the nearest possible setting and heads through the kitchen and out into the living room, Takota hot on her heels.

“Why is he back?” Brooklyn unlocks the latch on the window and aggressively shoves it open. “Why are you back, weirdo?! You already shovelled the sidewalk! It hasn’t snowed enough yet! Go away! Mum…” both brows are arched as she glances over her shoulder. “...TJ is going to flip out. The weirdo is asking if you’re here. He called you pretty. I heard him! TJ is pissed!”

“Hey! Hey you!” Addie yells out the window. “My brother is going to kick your ass!”

“No one is kicking anyone’s ass,” Esme says, and shoves her feet into a pair of Crocs by the front door and snags one of the many coats from the hall closet; a snowboarding jacket that belongs to her husband and is monstrous on her tiny frame. And she barely manages to get the front door open; the three littles rushing past her and out onto the freshly shovelled porch and half completed steps. 

“Why don’t you just go away!” TJ is barking at the ‘hired help’; a neighbourhood kid that she’d hired three years ago to handle the sidewalk IF Tyler was away. TJ had willingly taken on the responsibility of snow cleaning their first Christmas in Gramercy Park. Happy to be in charge of keeping the walk, stairs, and porch clean, but knowing that anything past the front gate is off limits. “You already did the sidewalk! It doesn’t need done again!”

“What’s going on?” Esme wraps an arm around her son’s shoulders and pulls him tightly into her. He’s tall for only ten; less than an inch away from squeaking past her in height. Still slim yet not as lanky and awkward looking; shoulders broader and muscles in his upper body already forming and becoming defined. A direct result of his love for sports and the kid friendly workouts in the gym that his dad let’s him partake in. 

“This guy…” TJ nods in the teenager’s direction. “...wants to talk to you. He called you pretty. He asked ‘where’s your pretty little mom?'. I don’t like the way he said it. And dad wouldn’t like it either.”

“Is there a fight?” Tanner inquires, as he and Declan emerge from the side of the house; hearing the shouting from the backyard where they’d been keeping an eye on the dogs and building ‘snow fortresses’. “Who’s fighting?”

“No one is fighting,” Esme replies. “Just a misunderstanding between your brother and Jacobi. I’m sure it’s nothing, TJ. Go back to what you were doing. Daddy will be home soon. It’ll be a nice surprise for him; seeing everything shovelled off.”

“I don’t like this drongo,” TJ declares, and gestures towards the teenager with the end of the shovel. “He called you pretty. No one calls my mum pretty. Even if she is.”

“Beat him up,” Delcan suggests. “Daddy would.”

“Daddy would NOT beat someone up for no reason,” Esme informs him. “Especially not a teenager. Jacobi,” she turns to the teen in question. He’s a senior at the high school only three blocks away; a nice enough kid from an upper middle class home, constantly clad in backwards ball caps, baggy jeans, a varsity football jacket. “Now is NOT a good time. My wallet’s inside and I have no cash on me and my husband’s going to be home any second and it’s going to get really crazy around here. And loud. Very loud.”

“You don’t have to pay me until next time. I was just going to ask you if…”

TJ steps in front of Esme, forming a protective barrier between her and the unwanted visitor. “My mum’s married,” he snarls. “To my dad. Leave her alone! My dad is big and he’s strong and he can hurt people. With one hand. And if he finds out you’re mackin’ on my mom…”

“Tyler..” she places her hands on his shoulders. “...enough. No one is ‘macking’ on anyone. Jacobi is just being friendly. He shovels the sidewalk for us when dad isn’t here. And takes the garbage to the curb. He’s just trying to be friends.”

“My mom doesn’t need any more friends. Especially GUY friends. Seriously, my dad will kill you. Trying to get with my mom? Yeah, my dad will lose his shit. And you don’t want him to lose his shit. He’ll break you half. With his bare hands.”

“He’s very protective,” Esme explains to the teen, and gives an apologetic smile. “When dad leaves, he takes the role of ‘man of the house’ very seriously. You’re more than welcome to come back later; you can come in and have some hot chocolate or you can stay for dinner.”

“Oh now he’s coming to dinner?!” TJ huffs. “He just wants to try and get in your pants, mum. It’s obvious.”

“You’re ten. You don't know what's obvious when it comes to those things. You need to settle down. Jacobi is harmless. He’s just trying to be friends. Wouldn’t that be nice? To have friends here? It’s always nice to have friends.”

“I have friends back home. I don’t need them here. I got Tanny and Declan. What do I need HIM for?”

“Daddy!” Addie shrieks, as she stands on the lower rung of the wrought iron fence that borders their slice of property. One mitten clad hand wrapped around one of the posts while the other frantically waves at the yellow cab that pulls up to the curb. “Daddy! Daddy’s home!”

******

Chaos erupts; the gate being thrown open and a stampede of six human bodies and two dogs trying to steamroll their way through. The pure joy on those little faces and the excitement in their voices enough to cause a lump of emotion to settle square in his throat and tears to prick at his eyes; the latter hidden behind the lenses of his sunglasses. It had taken work to get past the feelings of inadequacy. The self hate and guilt and shame that had been telling him for years that he didn’t deserve the life he’d been given; a second chance at being a husband and father. Therapy has helped him get past that; helping him learn how to forgive himself and look at everything he DOES have instead of constantly questioning WHY he does. Now all he thinks about is how damn lucky he is; to have created seven human beings and to know how much they love him and how much they need him in their lives.

He barely gets a foot on the curb before the three littlest are on top of him. Shrieking and squealing with happiness and grabbing at the legs of his jeans; all three chattering at once, anxious for his undivided attention and begging to be picked up. He opts to dropping to one knee; not caring about the snow and the slush that soaks his leg or dirties the fabric. All that matters is those kids; three sets of arms wrapping tightly around his neck and those and those tiny voices giggling and happily screeching in his ears. And he gives each one the same attention; laying on the back of their heads and pressing kisses to their lips and cheeks.

“Daddy!” Addie climbs onto his thigh and squeezes his neck even tighter. “I missed you! I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Peanut. Every second of every day. I missed ALL of you.”

“But me the most, right? You missed me more than anyone, right?”

“ALL of you. I don’t have favourites.”

“Yes, you do. I know it’s me, daddy. Everyone knows it’s me.”

“Maybe I’ve got a little soft spot for you. But you know who my absolute favourite is? My most favourite human in the whole world?”

“Mummy.”

“Exactly.” He gives her a final squeeze and peck on the cheek, gently sliding her off of his thigh and then standing; wincing at the discomfort in his right knee and the tightness in his shoulder when he slings his piece of luggage -a simple backpack often used during hiking and camping excursions with the family- up onto it. “Hey little red,” he greets Declan, and affectionately ruffles both the winter hat and the shock of red hair underneath. “What happened? Grow another foot while I’m gone? You look taller.”

“I’m going to be a giant like you, dad,” Declan declares, then stands on his tiptoes with his lips pursed for a kiss. “Mum says I might even be BIGGER than you.”

“Guess I better watch my step, huh? Treat her right? Or you’ll be kicking my ass when you’re older. What about guys?” He addresses the oldest twins, clapping a hand on the back on the back of TJ’s neck and pressing a kiss on his cheek. 

Tanner...and his needs...are different. He’s the more sensitive of the two; so much like his mother when it comes to a near constant need to show and receive affection. And since his Autism diagnosis almost five years ago -high functioning, as the developmental pediatrician had called it, a term that Tyler finds gets under his skin and leaves a foul taste in his mouth- they’ve all learned just WHAT Tanner needs. Whether it be ‘sensory breaks’ when feeling overwhelmed or anxious or more one on one interaction. Today it’s deep pressure. Tyler feels his son’s need for it the second Tanner’s arms wrap around his waist. He’s struggling emotionally; likely missing him the most out of all the kids and having a hard time adjusting to being away from home and not having his usual routine. It’s been difficult to adjust to; trying to find that balance between giving Tanner what he so desperately needs and craves yet not alienating or neglecting the needs of the others.

“Hey, mate.” He presses a kiss to Tanner’s temple, then wraps both arms around his petite frame. Knowing the exact amount of pressure he needs to put into the embrace. It will last longer than what he’d shared with the others. Long ago getting used to Tanner’s ‘signs’; knowing it’s better for his son’s mental state if he allows Tanner to be the one to break contact. 

The ten year old’s demeanour begins to change almost instantly; tension releasing from his body and his heart rate slowing down and the head to toe tremors disappearing. And he holds on until Tanner is good and ready to pull away, then places his hands on his son’s shoulders and crouches down to make them eye level. Smiling when his sunglasses are gently and carefully pulled off his face. That contact again; Tanner needing to be able to read the emotions and even the thoughts that he always says is ‘written in daddy’s eyes’.

“You good?”

Finally a smile. One that crinkles the corners of his eyes and creases the bridge of his nose. “I’m good, dad.”

“Good,” he leans in and presses a kiss to Tanner’s lips. “Miss me?”

The ten year old nods.

“How much?”

“Lots.”

“Just lots?”

The smile broadens. “Tons.”

“I knew it. I missed you too. Tons. I brought you something. From Vietnam. Remember how when I told you where I was going, you did all that research? Especially about the animals? What was your favorite one?”

“The sun bear.”

“Look what I found.” Reaching into the pocket of his navy wool pea coat, he pulls out a small porcelain statue of a sun bear. It had taken him two hours of scouring various markets near his hotel and in surrounding areas, but he’d managed to find one. Tanner’s obsession with studying countries and their native wildlife is no secret; postcards and other trinkets constantly pouring in from Koen and Rata and some of the other guys on staff. 

Tanner’s eyes widen, and he gingerly “Just for me?”

“Just for you. I told you I’d do my best to find you something. You can add that to your collection.”

“Mum!” He excitedly turns to Esme as she joins them, cradling his gift in both palms. “Look what daddy found! Look what he got me!”

“That’s awesome nugget. Daddy never disappoints, does he.”

“Never. Thank you, daddy,” Tanner curls his arms around Tyler’s neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I missed you. I love you.”

“I missed you too, mate. And I love you,” he places his lips against his son’s temple. “So much.” 

“Why don’t you go put that inside,” Esme suggests. “In your room. So it doesn’t get broken. You can come back out to play if you want. If not, dry socks please. Your feet are probably soaked.”

“And put my boots on the mat by the door and all wet stuff in the sink in the laundry room.”

“You got it.” She playfully tugs on the braided ties dangling from his head, then taps a fingertip against the end of the nose before he rushes off. “Hey, handsome,” she greets Tyler with a brilliant smile; one that’s a testament to immense relief his return brings. “Long time no see. Already upping your ‘best daddy in the world’ game, huh?”

“Couldn’t let him down, could I?”

“You never do. How was your flight?”

“It was alright.” He shrugs his bag further up onto his shoulders and reaches up to cup the back of her head in his palm, other hand falling on the small of her back and pulling her tightly into him. Despite the enormous difference in both weight and height, their bodies have always felt perfect together; easily and effortlessly melding into one another. He’d felt it that first day; 13 years ago in that rundown hotel room in Dhaka. She had felt amazing; soft skin and curves in all the right places, body warm and responding so eagerly and willingly to his. Everything it...about her...had felt good. It had felt right. And still does. 

“I missed you.” Esme says, and perches herself on her tiptoes; the soles and heels of her bare feet lifting out her Crocs as she curls her arms around his neck. 

“I missed you too. You have no idea how much.”

They both feel the stress and the worry immediately lift; her body leaning into his and her eyes closing, his hand gently pressing her head into his chest, his forearm sliding just under her ass. For minutes they stand in silence simply embracing one another and enjoying the reunion; snowflakes gathering in their hair and on the shoulders of their jackets. And when she eventually pulls away, he leans down to kiss her; long and soft and slow, palm moving from the back of her head to her cheek. 

Tyler glances down, a grin playing on his lips. “What’s up with that outfit?”

“It’s a long story.” She reaches up to trace her fingertips over a handful of fresh scratches and gouges mar his face and forehead. “What’s up with these?”

“Those are also a long story. We’re missing one. There’s only six spawn. What happened? Finally have enough? Is she buried in the backyard?”

“I did FINALLY crack but she’s very much alive. She went to Alannah’s last night; for a sleepover. Alannah’s mom took them out today; for lunch and a movie and to do some Christmas shopping.” Alannah is one of the many friends Millie has managed to make during their trips to New York City; the daughter of a Korean diplomat and a former Rockette. 

“She’s been THAT bad?”

“Let’s put it this way; she’s lucky she’s still breathing and I’m lucky I'm still sober.”

“Yikes. Not what I wanted to hear. Guess we’ll be talking about that later.”

“It can wait. No rush. She’ll be home for dinner. I’m sure she’ll still be in a mood.”

“I’ll handle it if she is.”

“And then I’ll get blamed for turning daddy against her.”

“Well, she’s got to learn. No one disrespects my wife. Not someone we know, not a complete stranger, not my own kids.”

“Always the protective husband. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Tanner made some amazing soup yesterday and he insisted we save you some. And there’s fresh coffee AND the hot tub is already.”

“Best wife EVER.”

“I try. To keep my man happy.”

Smiling, he smoothes her hair away from her hair and loops errant strands behind her ears. “You do a very good job at that. And later, I’ll make YOU very happy.”

Esme grins. “Is that a promise?”

“That’s a promise.” He kisses her once more; her face cradled in both hands and her body more melting into his his.

Her smile is softer; eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and happiness. And love. There’s always love there. And he's certain there always will be. 

“I missed you,” he says yet again, and leans down to place a kiss on her temple and nuzzles the tip of his nose against her ear.

Pulling back to look at him, her hand once more moves to his face. Knuckles skimming along his jaw before her palm cups his cheek, her eyes never leaving his as two of her fingertips glide over his lips. She allows the the bottom of his chin to rest in the curve between thumb and forefinger, then softly and briefly brushes her mouth against his

“Welcome home, baby,” she whispers against his lips, then takes his hand in hers and leads the way inside.


	3. Home

He wakes to the sound of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door and the voices of his two youngest daughters. A hearty, home cooked meal and a soak in the hot tub had been exactly what his weary and aching body had needed. Barely managing to pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before exhaustion had taken over; passing out -face down- in the middle of the double king in the master bedroom. It isn’t an easy feat; napping in a house filled with seven kids. There’s always some level of chaos; near constantly bickering between the four oldest, the three littles shrieking and giggling as they chase each other around, the sound of the television or the explosions and gunfire coming from a video game being played. The latter accompanied by the occasional outbursts of profanity as Declan and TJ argue over who is beating who. If he has been away or been logging way too many hours handling things behind the scenes and DOES manage to catch some extra sleep, Esme does her best to keep the volume down; usually taking the kids down to the water or into town for a few hours. In the same way he does for her; giving her much needed ‘mommy breaks’ from time to time and letting her have the entire house to herself. It's the least he can do; let her have the house to herself to catch up on sleep or just sit and read a book on the back or to have a glass of wine while indulging in a bubble bath by candlelight. 

Life is crazy in their home; noisy and chaotic and their schedules filled with work or running the kids around to their extra curricular activities. It’s tiring and often extremely frustrating; dealing with THREE preteens, a kiddo with Tanner’s additional issues, and both Brooklyn and Declan so high spirited. Addie and Takota are the easiest to deal with; one very bubbly, affectionate, and extremely social, the other quiet and thoughtful and extremely mild mannered. It’s an existence he’d never thought he’d have. Losing his first child -and the horrible mistake he’d made leading up to it- had nearly destroyed him; the combined feelings of profound grief and guilt eating away at him and leading to his addiction issues. He’d never thought he’d get another shot at a normal life; a chance to be a husband and a father again. And while he regrets the years he spent putting his family last and running away out of fear of failure, he knows many more ahead of him; many more chances and opportunities to make things right.

“Daddy?” Addie’s voice accompanies the continued knocking on the door. “Are you awake?”

He rolls over onto his back and presses the heels of his palms into his weary eyes. “Yeah…” he pushes his hands through his hair and stretches; wincing at the pain and stiffness in his lower back. “...I’m awake.”

“Mumma says dinner will be ready in about half an hour. She sent us to tell you.”

“I’m here too!” Brooklyn pipes up. “Can we come in? Can we come see you?”

“We want snuggles,” Addie says. “We haven’t had daddy snuggles in a LONG time.”

“In a really long time.” Brooklyn adds.

“We really want to snuggle with you,” Addie’s tiny voice has a pleading quality to it, and he can’t help but smile; picturing that pout and those sad little eyes and the way she tucks her chin into her chest. 

She is definitely her mother; the petite stature and the small, delicate features and that smooth, pale skin accentuated by the dark strands of hair that frame her face. Their personalities are a match as well; bubbly and social and easily excitable. And the smile. So beautiful. Pure, even. Always genuine; brightening their entire face and making those dark eyes sparkle. Perhaps it’s why...out of all the kids...he tends to baby Addie. Not just that impossibly tiny build and that sunny and light disposition that never fails to make him smile, but because she IS so much like her mother. A constant reminder of the person who single handedly changed his life; saving him in every way a person CAN be saved.

“Daddy?” Brooklyn raps her knuckles against the door once again. “Can we? Can we come for snuggles?”

“What do I get out of it?” 

“You get to see us!” Addie gives a dramatic huff. “You’re two most favourite girls in the whole world!”

“Get in here, then. If you’re going to put it like THAT.”

The door swings open and the girls come rushing in; giggling as they toss themselves onto the bed and scramble up towards him. Gathering them into his arms when they settle on either side of him; showering their cheeks and foreheads with kisses and running his hands over their silky, dark hair. Despite being almost a full year old, Addie remains the smaller of the two; petite in stature, possessing her mom’s small, almost dainty features and those enormous dark eyes. Esme in every possible way; appearance, personality, even the same body language and facial expressions. Brooklyn is a mix of both mom and dad; tall and lanky with his eyes and Esme’s dark hair and pale skin. She’s feisty and fearless; a lot of energy and tenacity packed into the skinny frame. She reminds him of TJ; stubborn and temperamental, yet loving so deeply and profoundly.

The girls settle in next to him; each of them with a hand resting on his stomach and their heads on his chest. His palms smoothing over their hair and then settle on the middle of their backs. It’s the greatest achievement of his life. If not the ONLY achievement. Being a dad is the one thing that he can truly be proud of; having a hand in creating seven beautiful human lives and being entrusted to bring them up to decent adults. Nothing drives him to want to be better and do better than his family. Wanting nothing more than to be the kind of father that his kids talk about and remember fondly when they have their own children. Seeing him love their mother with everything he is and everything he has; respecting her and treating her well and insisting they do as well teaching them what they should do and expect in a relationship. 

It’s what he wants for his sons; finding someone they love and they want to devote themselves and who make them happy. And the same goes for his daughters; hoping the way he treats their mother teaches them what they should expect from the men -or women- in their lives. He never wants them to settle for less; end up with someone like Mark that will degrade them and abuse them in every possible way. They’re strong; like their momma. And being taught how to respect and take care of themselves. But he’d gladly take an assault charge and do time in jail messing up something that hurts his girls.

“Daddy?” Addie places her chin on his chest and reaches up to run her palms along his cheeks. “Why’d you have to go away?”

“I had some business to take care of.”

“You had to go be a boss?”

“I had to go and do a favour. For Uncle Anil.”

“What kind of favour?”

“Did you have to kill someone?” Brooklyn inquires, and lifts his arm and slips under it, pushing her tiny fingers through his much larger and longer ones.

“Why would I have to kill someone?”

“TJ said that before you became a boss, you used to go and kill people,” she explains. “Really bad people. That hurt good people. Is that true? Is that what you used to do?”

“Once in a while, yeah.”

“Is that why you went away?” Addie asks. “To kill someone?”

“I went away to do a favour for Uncle Anil and that’s all you two need to know. You been having a good time? Being back in the city?”

“It’s not as fun as when you’re not here,” Brooklyn says. “Mommy tries, but it’s hard for her to have fun with ALL of us at that same time. That’s a lot of kids; for her to try and make happy all at once. Especially when Millie is being Millie. She never wants to do anything with the rest of us.”

“She’s been really mean,” Addie adds. “To mummy. TJ got mad at her for it; he freaked out and threatened to kick her ass.”

He stares at her pointedly. “Pardon me?”

“Kick her butt, I meant. He was really mad. He said when you’re gone, he’s in charge. And that if you wouldn’t let Millie talk to mummy like that, he wasn’t going to let her do it either.”

“Then they had a big fight,” Brooklyn chimes in. “ And mummy started yelling at Millie and then Millie said she hated her and it made mummy sad. She locked herself in the pantry. I think she was crying. TJ said to leave her alone; that she’d come out when she felt better. Then he made us a snack and took us into the backyard to play in the snow. Why is Millie being like that? Mean to mummy? Mummy doesn’t deserve that. She’s an awesome mummy.”

“If we got to pick our mummies and daddies, I’d pick mummy over everyone else,” Addie muses. “She loves us. She cuts the crusts off our bread and makes dinosaur shaped pancakes and puts chocolate chips in them. And she always gives us the biggest pieces of cake or pie and just takes a little bit for herself. And she’ll make herself something different to eat, if there’s not enough for all of us. Even if it’s just a peanut butter sandwich. She says it’s what mummies do; make sure their kids have everything first. “

“She’s a good mummy,” Tyler agrees. “She’s an amazing mummy. I couldn’t have asked for a better one for you guys. And you’re right; she doesn’t deserve Millie being that way. Is that why mummy sent her out? With her friend?”

“Mummy’s feelings were really hurt,” Brooklyn pouts. “Because she tries really hard to take care of us and Millie acts like that.”

“I’ll talk to mummy. Cheer her up. And I’ll talk to Millie too.”

“Millie told us not to tell you,” Addie informs him. “She said she’d kill us. In our sleep.”

“Well, she won’t get the chance. Not if I kill her first.”

“You won’t kill Millie. She’s your daughter.” Brooklyn’s fingertips trace the tattoo that takes up the entire length of the inside of his left forearm. A permanent version of the stick figure drawing that Millie had inked onto him five years ago; their entire family -at the time- including the two dogs. The last set of twins had been added afterwards; Millie reluctantly adding two new siblings to the mix. “Maybe you can just lock her in the attic. Just feed her once in a while.”

“I can’t do THAT either. I’d go to jail. You don’t want me going to jail, do you?”

Brooklyn shakes her head. “I don’t even like when you go away for a weekend. I don’t want you to go to jail for the rest of your life. We’d never see you.”

“Mummy would bring us to visit,” Addie says. “She’d make sure we got to see him.”

“Mummy isn’t going to take us into a jail,” her sister argues. “That’s not a nice place, Ads. There's a lot of bad there.”

“Daddy’s not bad. But he’d be there. If he killed Millie or locked her up.”

“Mummy still wouldn’t take us. She wouldn’t want us in a place like that.”

“We would have to Skype then. Or Zoom.”

“Not the same. That’s not like seeing him in person. I want to see him in person. That’s why he CAN’T lock Millie up. We’d never see him again. Would you want THAT to happen?”

“No. I’d be really sad. If I didn’t get to see daddy again.”

Tyler grins. “You two do realize I’m right here, yeah?”

“Who would get the spiders and snakes out of the house?” Addie frets. “Mummy freaks out when she sees them. Remember the time she screamed and woke us all up? Almost made me pee my pants. All ‘cause there was a Huntsman on the stove.”

“Mummy was so scared!” Brooklyn giggles. “Remember she was crying? And swearing? And was yelling at daddy to get the spider? And daddy put in the container and chased her outside with it? She said she was going to divorce him because of it. She never did though.”

“But did he have to sleep on the couch for a week,” Addie says. “ I do remember that. Because he tried to sleep in my bed and it was way too small for both of us. His legs were hanging off. ‘Cause he’s like ten feet tall.”

“I’m only six three. But that was funny, wasn’t it? Chasing mommy with the spider? Even if I DID have to sleep on the couch for a week. It was worth it. Seeing her freak out like that.”

“It was hilarious!” Brooklyn enthuses, then turns serious. “But don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want her making me sleep outside. It’s cold out.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” He presses a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “What’s mummy making for dinner?”

“Chicken parm. Yummm.” Addie rubs her stomach enthusiastically. “It’s the one thing she cooks REALLY well. Well, the only thing she cooks well.”

Tyler can’t help but chuckle. “You’re savage.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for. You know what mummy said?”

“I’m kind of scared to ask.”

“She said you’re taking Brookie and I d\to the American Girl store. For lunch. Two days after Christmas.”

“That’s news to me.”

“She said it’s your turn to do it,” Brooklyn says. “She did it two years in a row. It’s time for you to take one for the team. That’s exactly what she said. Are you? Are you going to take us?”

“I guess I am. Any other dads go to that place?”

“I don’t know,” Addie shrugs. “I’ve seen a couple, I guess. You’ll really do it? You’ll really take us?”

He nods. “But I am NOT wearing a tiara or anything girlie. Got it?”

“What about a fancy hat?” Brooklyn suggests. “Or one of those feathery scarves? Like we have in the dress up bin.”

“What did I just say? I’m taking you there. Isn’t that enough?”

“I told you,” Brooklyn grins victoriously at her sister. “He doesn’t know how to say no to us.”

“*****

She’s in the kitchen; denim clad ass on full display as she leans against the island. Forearms resting on the granite counter top as she flips through that day’s copy of the New York Times; a glass of white wine and a half eaten bar of chocolate within reaching distance. The littlest girls remain upstairs. Their hysterical laughter and the pounding of footsteps echoing through the house; Declan and TJ chasing them throughout the second story while roaring like dinosaurs. In the living room, Tanner teaches an intensely focused and intrigued Takota how to play checkers; the board placed on an ottoman in front of the gas fireplace. 

Esme gives a small start when he curls an arm around her waist; his free hand moving her ponytail away from the nape of her neck and his lips pressing against the soft, supple skin. “Hey sleeping beauty,” she greets, as both of his hands settle on her hips and she leans back against him. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to her temple, followed by the cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. For letting me sleep.”

“You needed it. You’ve had a hell of a five days. That’s a heck of a lot of travelling; tons of hours in the air. I’m surprised you didn’t just want to stay in bed. You could have said that you know; that you just wanted to sleep. I would have understood; I wouldn’t have been offended.”

“I spent five days away from you guys. I don’t want to miss another minute. Although, I gotta say, I had quite the wake up call. You throwing me under the bus.”

She tilts her head back and grins up at him. “Girls must have told you about the lunch at American Girl.”

“They did. And I have to say, that place? My own personal hell.”

“Every year since we started having Christmas here, they’ve got to have lunch there. I’ve taken them there both years. And besides…” she turns around to face him, hands coming to rest on his sides. “...the only day I could get reservations, was the same day that I’m taking Millie, Declan and TJ to the Rangers game.”

“What about Ovi? Or Riya?”

“Ovi is taking Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History. They do it every Christmas.”

“Riley?”

"She and Shaena aren’t arriving until two days after. Come on…” she repeatedly rubs her palms up and down his ribs. “...I’ve done it two years in a row and I can’t do it a third. Do you want me to be an alcoholic? Or to eat my weight in cheesecake? Or both? Because if I have to go to that place again…”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’m sure we can...arrange...something. I’m not above doing favours.”

He grins. “What kind of favours?”

“Sexual ones. EXTREMELY sexual ones. Unless there’s other favours you’re thinking about.”

“No. I think sexual favours would work just fine. I won’t turn those down.”

“I’d probably die of a stroke if you did.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we.” His palms slide around to her ass and he pulls her even tighter into him; her hands settling on his biceps and she stands on her tiptoes and into a kiss. And he both hears and feels her giggle when his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass. 

“So is that a ‘yes?” Esme asks. “You’ll take Addie and Brookie to American Girl?”

“You really thought I’d say I wouldn’t do it?”

“Everyone has their limits. I thought that just might be yours. They really DO have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

“Who do you think they get THAT from? Their ability to do that?”

“I have no idea. I have no clue where they could have gotten that from. Must be a gift.”

“Yeah, a gift their mother gave them. I was pretty much wrapped around your little finger from that first day, so…”

“Only took you twelve years to admit it. I mean, I’ve known it this entire time. It was pretty obvious. To everyone BUT you.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. And what’s up with these?” She reaches between and slides her hands under the front of his t-shirt; fingers toying with the ties on the waistband of his joggers. “Gray sweats? You know my weakness for gray sweats. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is that what it takes these days? Me wearing gray sweats?”

“You could be wearing a garbage bag and you’d manage. You’re pulling out all the stops. Flowers, gray sweats. Although the latter? I already know what’s under them; not like it’s a secret.”

“I thought you liked unwrapping your gifts?”

A grin slowly spreads from ear to ear. “Oh, I do. And it’s the gift that keeps on giving. You know, you didn’t have to try so hard. I was going to put out anyway. I mean, it’s been almost a week. I’m a little...frustrated...to say the least.”

“That makes two of us. You didn’t bring one of your little ‘friends’ to New York with you? One of your special toys?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for the real thing. So you better not disappoint me, husband. I have very high standards. And expectations. If you don’t live up to those…”

“Have I ever NOT lived up to them?”

“That was a very good point.” Her fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats, once more standing on her tiptoes, giggling into his mouth and then pushing him away when his hands clamp down on her ass. “Thank you. For agreeing to you that. Going to the doll place. You’re a real trooper, husband. I owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Of the favours you owe me.”

“You have a list?”

“You don’t?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, then turns back to face the island. “...and you’ll have to put up with them going on a little shopping spree. My mother send them gift cards; to American Girl.”

“Your mother actually sent them something?” He moves to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water before briefly stepping into the pantry; resurfacing with a handful of pills. Meds to control the mild to moderate pain and the inflammation from the arthritis that inhabits his body and an antidepressant AND psychotic. It’s old hat now; four times a day to control pain, the others taken twice a day to ward off any issues from his mental health problems. And it’s been five years of pretty good success; no major depressive episodes and only a handful of panic attacks. A far cry from the life he HAD been living.

“I actually think it was my step father. Have you noticed how things change every time they get back together? The emails start up, the birthday cards and money start rolling in, the Christmas gifts arrive. It’s like clock work; they hook back up, she attempts to come across as a normal grandmother.”

Uncapping the water, he swallows half with the handful of pills, then stands across from her and leans stomach first against the counter. “We both know there’s nothing normal about that woman. How you turned out relatively sane is beyond.”

“Relatively sane? Are you trying to say I’m just a tad INSANE?”

“I’m saying you have a tendency to be a little...high strung. A little neurotic.”

“Yet you still married me. Imagine that.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for big brown eyes and freckles.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t my eyes and my freckles that you first noticed. But whatever helps you sleep at night. But yes. My mother DID send them something. Shockingly, she sent them ALL something. I can’t believe she even remembered we have seven children. I thought maybe she stopped counting after Declan.”

“Well she stopped caring after TJ and Tanner. Remember how pissed she was that we named one of them after me?”

“Oh, I distinctly remember the epic hissy fit she threw in my hospital room. When we told her what their names were. I completely remember her meltdown.”

“Wasn’t it something about that name just setting the kid up for failure? I think I remember a part about me being a black cloud over the whole family and just bringing bad luck on the kid? Something like that, anyway.”

“She’s fucking insane. She always has been. I warned you; before we moved to Colorado. I told she was nuts. You thought I was overreacting.”

“I will never, ever doubt you again. And I’m going to regret even asking, and don’t take this as a sign I actually give a shit, but how is the old bitch doing?”

“Well, she’s still alive. Alive enough to grate on my nerves and make me want to drink. Alive enough to undergo her sixth round of chemo. What ever happened to the whole ‘she won’t live past a year’ scenario? That’s what we were told. SIX years ago. You think she’s THAT evil? So evil nothing can kill her?”

“I think she’s got a few horseshoes up her ass. She’s not done tormenting people yet, I guess.”

“Well she can right ahead and torment someone else. I’m not in the mood for her shit.” Picking up the glass of wine, she downs half of it, then moves to the fridge to grab the bottle out of the fridge.

“Something tells me that isn’t sparkling cider.”

“It’s the real deal. I actually had it delivered. It’s been a long day. Between dealing with my family and their attempts at reconciliation and your daughter between the spawn of Satan, be thankful I’m not already passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Shades of last New Years Eve. She’s been that bad? Millie?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s been like. Bad times...oh I don’t know...a thousand?” She fills the wine glass to the brim, then takes another long swallow. “Did you hear about my meltdown? How I locked myself in the pantry of sorrow and self pity? I know for sure the girls told you about that.”

“Yeah, they told me. Something about Millie saying she hates you.”

“Remember how she told me she hated me when she was six? Over the whole not telling her you were in the hospital thing? Remember I told you that nothing could possibly hurt more than your six year old telling you she hates you?”

Tyler nods.

“I was wrong. I was SO wrong. It hurts much worse when your eleven year old tells you. Because when they get to THAT age and you actually see and hear the hate they have for you? Yeah, that’s the real deal. And you know why it started? I asked her to unload the dishwasher. That’s it. She threw a fit; freaking out about how I’m lame and boring and stupid and I’m ruining her life and she hates me. That’s the kind of day I’ve had.”

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Oh that will go over real well. Like a fart in church. You know what that’s going to do? Cause an even bigger freak out. Over me turning daddy against her. You know that’s what she’ll say. She says it every time you get on her about something. She calls me a rat and a snitch. A cry baby. For running to you and whining about things. Her exact words.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t switched at birth? Are you sure they didn’t fuck up at the hospital and our real daughter isn’t out there somewhere? How did we have a kid like this? Neither of us are THAT bad.”

“I’d accept the switch at birth theory if she didn’t look just like you. If she didn’t have the same body language and facial expressions and all that. It’ll just make things worse; if you talk to her. She’ll just hate me even more and there’ll be even more drama in the house. Can we not have a nice Christmas? I’d like to have a nice Christmas.”

“With her acting like THAT? Won’t be too nice if she’s pulling that bullshit. She can’t get away with that, Me. She can’t talk to you like that. Disrespect you like that. I don’t let strangers disrespect my wife so I’m sure as hell not going to let my own kid do it. I’ll talk to her.”

“By talk to her, you actually mean put the fear of God into her.”

“If I have to. Is she home now?”’

“Up in her room sulking. Because some boy called her for her and I wouldn’t let her talk to him.”

“A boy called? Here. For Millie? Our Millie. Who doesn’t give a shit about boys back home. That’s who we’re talking about, yeah?”

“Some boy she met at the movies,” Tanner says, as he wanders into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. “Aaron. What a dumb name. I bet he IS dumb. You’d have to be dumb to like Millie.”

“Okay, Nugget, that is not nice,” Esme gently scolds. “I know she’s been a holy terror since we got here, but that is not a nice thing to say about your sister.”

“She’s evil. She told Declan he’s adopted and that’s why he has red hair and doesn’t look like any of us. And she made Takota cry; she told him an alligator lived in the toilet and that the next sat down on it, it was going to bite his penis off.”

“And this was all on the first day here,” Esme addresses Tyler, and sips her wine. “And you wonder why I’m drinking.”

“I bet you it’s puberty,” Tanner says, as he turns on his heel and heads back to the living room. “I read about it, you know. It’s all about the hormones. Some people go totally off the reservation. I bet that’s Millie’s issue. She’s probably going to get her period soon.”

Esme scowls. “Thank you, Nugget. We really need to hear that. That just made things so much better.”

“I’m just saying, mum. It would explain A LOT. Didn’t you used to get all nutso when you had your period?”

“Not that my menstrual cycle is any of your business, but how old do you think I am? WHEN I had it? I still have it, thank you very much. Why do you think your dad comes home with cartons of ice cream and bags of chocolate bars at the same time every month? He knows it tames the beast.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I am NEVER getting married,” Tanner declares. “Too much craziness. I’m not dealing with THAT shit.”

Esme gives a derisive snort and looks at her husband. “Have kids they said. It’ll be fun they said.”

“I told you we should have stopped after the first one. But you didn’t want her to be an only child. You said she’d be lonely and hate us for not giving her siblings and people to play with. And now here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are. Seven later. And as much as they drive me insane and as feral as they are and even though I could run away sometimes, I love them. They drive me to drink, but I do love them. I’m not a perfect mother. I know that. But I try. You know I do.”

“You’re an amazing mum. Don’t don’t doubt it because Millie is being a bitch. Don’t take it to heart; I told my old man I hated him tons of times.”

“Your father used to beat you on the regular and lock in a shed for two days with no food. This is hardly the same thing. He gave you many reasons to hate him. Am I giving her reasons? To hate me?”

“No. You’re not. You’re a great mum, Me. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. This is her. All her. And she doesn’t hate you. She loves you. You’re her mother.”

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyler. I heard it in her voice. She does hate me. And…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...and it hurts. Because I have tried so hard over the last eleven years to be a good mom. I’ve tried to be the complete opposite of what I had growing up. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. To make her hate me? What have I done? What mistakes have I made?”

“Me...come on…” Walking around to the other side of the island, he plucks the wine glass out of her shaky hand and sets it on the countertop. “...this isn’t about you.” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs brush against her cheeks as he presses a kiss to her forehead and then draws her into his arms; tightly pressed against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other on the nape of her neck. “None of this is about you.”

“Where did I go wrong with her? What…?”

“Nowhere. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it hurts, babe. I know it makes you feel like shit; hearing her say those things. But it’s not your fault.”

“Something had to have happened. For her to be like this. I must have done something.”

“Hey…” he once more takes her face in his hands. “...stop. You didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong. This is all her. Whatever the fuck is going on, I’ll find out. I’ll talk to her.”

“Try not to make things worse.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I just don’t get her. When I found out she was going to be a girl, I had all these plans. All these little daydreams. About how close we’d be and all the things we’d do together and how I’d be so different from my own mother. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. Not to be anything like her.”

“And you’re not. You’re nothing like her.”

“I just don’t know what happened. Between Millie and I. And if I don’t know what happened, how am I supposed to fix it? She won’t talk to me. Not without fighting, anyway. And when she gets started in on me, TJ loses it. He flips his shit.”

“He’s protective of his momma. He always has been.”

“He is so much like you. It’s like watching and listening to a mini you. It’s scary sometimes; how alike the two of you are. Could you get him to rein it in a bit? Because he snaps and it’s not a nice thing to see. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her one day. Really hurt her.”

“I’ll talk to him too. He’s just protective. He’s trying to take care of you. But I’ll talk to him; get him to tone it down.”

“I thought he was going to beat the shit out of Jacobi today. That would not have ended well.”

“Yeah, he would have destroyed Jacobi.”

“He’s seventeen. TJ’s ten.”

“Don’t underestimate that kid. I’ve seen him fight. He took on four kids when he was five. Older kids. And beat the shit out of all of them. He could take Jacobi. No doubt in my mind. Should have let him try. I would have loved to have seen that.”

“Don’t encourage it. The last thing we need is him beating the crap out of Jacobi and Jacobi’s mother showing up on the doorstep.”

“Imagine how embarrassing that would be? Your seventeen year old son getting his ass beat by a ten year old?”

“We are not going to encourage our ten year old to beat anyone’s ass.”

“Ask me the kid deserves it. I know about his little crush on you.”

“He’s a teenager. I have seven kids. I’m forty one years old!”

“A very hot and sexy forty one year old.”

“In your eyes.”

“In A LOT of peoples’ eyes. What? You think I don’t know. That my wife’s a MILF? I’ve known it for eleven years. It’s nothing new. I’ve got thirsty women at the soccer park and on the playground, you’ve got horny seventeen year olds.”

“Only seventeen year olds don’t stand a chance. The women at the soccer park and on the playground? They’re all grown up.”

“And I don’t give a shit about a single one of them. I only have eyes for you, babe. Do I wear my gray sweatpants for anyone else?”

She grins. “No.”

“Do I wear them out in public? Or do I just wear them at home?”

“Just at home. Because you know I love gray sweatpant season. Especially YOU during gray sweatpants season.”

“Only you, Me,” he says, and cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her softly. “It’s always only been you. It always will be.”

*****

Despite having their own bedrooms, the three littlest insist on sleeping in the same bed; all climbing under the covers in Addie’s room and then settling down for a round of bedtime stories. They’re still excited from both his return and what it means now that he’s under the same roof. Christmas activities are now able to commence; decorating inside and outside, going to pick out a tree, a visit to Rockefeller centre, skating and sledding. The seven had all banded together, insisting that no lights or decorations be put up until daddy got there. It will be a whirlwind of activity; only a week before Christmas day and so many things that need to get done. An attic full of presents -shipped from Australia throughout the year and intercepted by Ovi and put into hiding- that need to be wrapped, lights that need to be put up outside, his own shopping that needs to get done. Never learning NOT to save getting things for the wife at the last minute. 

He used to hate Christmas; too many memories -both good and bad- that tied him to his mother and in turn, the loss of her and his father’s torment and abuse. Even during his first marriage and when Austin was alive he’d sucked at ‘getting into the spirit; attempting to be happy and trying his best to enjoy the moments with his little family. As a single guy living in the shack in the outback, he’d simply ignored the holiday altogether; spending it drunk and high off his ass or taking jobs that no one else would. And it had been a struggle; getting used to a wife that loves Christmas and everything associated with it. But seeing the joy in her face and how excited his kids get leading up to the days before Santa’s visit had helped repair the wounds inside of him. Using their happiness as a way of igniting his own; quickly and effortlessly finding his own joy in the season and in making new traditions and memories with his family.

By the end of the third bedtime story, all three littles are asleep; girls passed out under each arm and Takota stretched out on top of him. It’s a feat to get away without waking any of them up. Somehow managing -despite the discomfort and tightness in his back that has him wincing- to set up and gingerly place his son in the middle of Brooklyn and Addie before slowly and cautiously climbing out; tucking Addie’s pink and frilly unicorn themed comforter around all three little bodies before turning out the light and slipping from the room. Door left slightly ajar; Mac taking his usual resting place in front of it. He’ll stay there until he’s certain his tiny charges are safe and sound, then will make his way into the master bedroom and find his usual spot at the end of the bed.

He checks on the older boys; still awake and busying themselves in the twins’ room; mindful to keep the noise down so as not to wake their siblings. The room is enormous; twice the size of the master and consisting of its own full bathroom with double sinks and showers. Declan has his own quarters but often bunks in with TJ and Tanner; making himself comfortable with just a sleeping bag and a pillow on the floor and insisting that’s all he needs. Tanner is already ‘locked’ in his own little world. A safe and quiet place that Tyler had created for him on the bottom bunk; enclosing it with a sliding barn door easily opened from both inside and out, and strings of white mini lights giving the kid the calm and soothing ‘ambiance’ he needs when overwhelmed. He’s good at managing it; knowing ahead of time when he’s starting to become overstimulated and always finding a quiet and safe place to ‘decompress’. He often handles it better than even his parents do; learning how to cope with the things that trigger him and being his own best advocate.

“Hey...Nug…” he raps his knuckles against the wood. Giving Tanner both the chance to answer and to decide if he wants his ‘safe space’ breached. “...you alive in there? Give me a sign.”

He gets a knock back in response, followed by the rustling of blankets before the door slides open and Tanner’s face greets him; his shoulder length hair messy and knotted and a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Hi dad.”

“You good? Everything alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to be quiet.”

“I don’t blame you. Those two…” he casts a glance towards Declan and TJ; one climbing the ‘rock wall’ that had been created a year ago and the other slithering his way up the rope that dangles from the ceiling. “...can be damn noisy.”

“Just a bit,” Tanner agrees.

“What’cha doing?”

“Just writing a bit,” Tanner holds up the leather bound journal -one of many he’s owned and are already full and packed away in a locked box in the back of his closet back home- he’d been scrawling in. Some are used to document his daily life; passages about his struggle being ‘different’ and his brain not working like everyone else’s, others gushing about something fun and exciting he’d gotten to take part in. “I had some really cool dreams while you were gone. That’s what I’m writing about. Will you read them?”

“I always do, don’t I?” He’s in fact the only one who DOES get to read what Tanner writes. Tanner trusting him wholly and completely and enjoying the fact they have a ‘secret’. 

“I’ll bring it with me tomorrow. So you can see it. We’re still going right?”

“It’s our thing, right? Always what we do. Breakfast and time out. Just the two of us.”

“It’s a bit different this year. It’s always been the first morning after we get here. But you didn’t come with us this time.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that. That I had to go and take care of himself. We still buddies?”

“Best buddies. I know you couldn’t help it. That you HAD to go. I’m just glad you’re back. I miss you when you’re gone. Do you have to go away again?”

“Not for a very long time. If ever. I’ll do my best, okay? To not have to go away again.”

“Okay. I’m excited. About tomorrow.”

“Me too, Nug. You need anything? You got your snuggies?”

“I’ve got them all here.” He nods down at the array of stuffed animals arranged at his feet. 

“Blankie?”

Tanner holds up the corner of the weighted blanket already stretched out over top of him.

“You’re getting good at this. You won’t need me to check on you much longer.”

“Yes I will. I like when you check on me and we chat. Makes me feel special.”

“You ARE special. Very special. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Take your meds?”

“Mummy made sure. I’m not sleepy yet though. I’m going to write some more. So you have lots to read tomorrow. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Tyler grins. “Your mom is rubbing off on you.”

“You need them to read. And to go on the computer. And you probably should wear them when you’re on your phone too. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Speaking off glasses, make sure you take yours off BEFORE you fall asleep.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re even starting to SOUND like your mother. You in the mood for a hug?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically. “Yup.”

Leaning down, he curls an arm around the ten year old’s slender frame just as two arms encircle his neck. It’s best to never push anything on Tanner; let him call the shots even when it comes to something as simple as affection. “Love you, Nug.”

“Love you too, daddy. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I am. You sleep good okay? I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll go to our same place.”

“I can’t wait! They’re pancakes are the BEST. Well, not as good as yours and those ones mummy makes with the chocolate chips. But still really good. Will you give mummy another hug and kiss from me? I don’t think I hugged her long enough. And she deserves a long hug and an extra kiss. She had a bad day.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And tell her I love her? To the moon and back?”

“I will tell her that. And she loves you too. She loves you so much.”

“I know. She doesn’t even have to say it. It’s all the things she does for me. Making sure I have my meds and double checking to make sure I brought all my favourite snuggies and that I always have enough pens for writing. And it’s when she smiles at me and calls me ‘Nugget’ and she plays with my hair when we snuggle. I know mummy loves me. She doesn’t make it a secret.”

“She’s loved you right from the start. When you were just a little bean in her tummy. You sleep good, alright? Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” Tanner gives his dad’s neck one last squeeze. “I love you, daddy. See you later alligator.”

Grinning, he lightly tousels Tanner’s hair. “In a while crocodile.”

*****

Millie answers on the second knock; a terse ‘come in’. She’s been moody and towing a very thin line since she emerged from her room at dinner time. Snapping at her younger siblings and calling them ‘stupid’ and ‘annoying’ if they so as much asked her to pass them something; rolling her eyes whenever her mother spoke to her or just flat out ignoring her altogether. Eventually Tyler had had enough. What should have been a happy return home and getting to have dinner with his family after five days away turned into a screaming match; him ordering Millie up to her room with her dinner and her accusing him of hating her and always taking everyone’s side when ganging up on her. What used to be easily managed behaviour when she was six has become increasingly difficult to put up with; her attitude and her mouth almost unbearable. And she’s come to realize that those big blue eyes and that pout don’t immediately cause daddy to cave; he no longer buckles to the faux remorse or the feelings of guilt he’d get whenever he’d raise his face or scold her. 

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest; his daughter avoiding all eye contact as she silks in the middle of her bed. “What’s up your ass?” 

“What’s up yours?”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me? You did not say what I think you just said.”

Millie chews nervously on her bottom lip. A habit she’d inherited from her mother. “Sorry.”

“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting like an asshole for four days. Don’t even try and deny it. You really thought I wouldn’t find out? You have six brothers and sisters. You really think they wouldn’t talk? You really thought you could tell Addie and Brookie you’d kill them in their sleep if they told me?”

“I knew they’d rat on me. And I knew SHE’D rat on me.”

“Who is she? And you better not say your mother. I know you’re not talking about her like that. Especially to me.”

“You always take HER side. Always. You used to on my side. Now you’re kissing her butt and…”

“Okay, first of all…” He leaves the door open as he stalks into the room; keeping his temper in check as he stands at the foot of the bed. “...SHE has a name. And to you, it’s mum. You don’t talk about your mother like that. Especially to me. Second, check your tone. You don’t talk to me like that. Ever. Got it?”

Millie nods.

“What the fuck, Amelia? I leave for four days and THIS is how you behave? Didn’t I warn you BEFORE I left? About treating your mother right? Did I not tell you I better not find out you were mouthy and disrespectful to her? I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You did.”

“You don’t talk to your mother like that. You don’t treat her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. Do you know what she went through to even have you? Do you know how close she came to not ever knowing about you? She gave up her entire life for you. She has loved you from the minute she found out she was having you. Do you know how lucky you are to even have a mother? Never mind one that loves you as much as she does? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. It’s her! It’s all her!”

“I know your mum isn’t perfect. She’s the first to admit it. But I also know you’re full of shit. What has she done? What has she done that’s so bad that you think you can treat her like you are? Give me an example. One thing that is so bad.”

Millie shrugs.

“You’re going to knock your shit off. And not just for a couple days either. You’re going to apologize to your mum and you’re going to mean it. And you’re going to start helping her out and you’re NOT going to ruin Christmas for her or your brothers and sisters. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but until you can talk about it calmly and rationally, I don’t want to hear it. Got it?”

She nods.

“And by the way, that Aaron called back. Only this time I talked to him.”

Millie’s eyes widen.

“Imagine how surprised I was to find out he’s sixteen. And imagine his surprise when I told him you were only eleven. For some reason, he thought you were fourteen. Is there a reason he thought that?”

“No.”

“You want to try again?”

“I told him I was fourteen. Because he’s really cute and I wanted him to call me.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be calling back. Because I told him if he ever called again, he’d regret ever getting your number. That if he ever came near my daughter...my ELEVEN year old daughter...I’d beat his ass into the middle of next week. Then I’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass and drop his corpse on his mother’s doorstep.”

Tears of both anger and despair well in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re eleven. And no sixteen year old should be calling an eleven year old. What the hell is wrong with you? How’d you think you’d get away with that? Giving OUR number to a boy? What the hell, Amelia?”

“Why do you and mom want to ruin my life?”

“We’re your parents and we are trying to protect you. Do you not know what could have happened to you? Talking to this guy? What if he’d wanted to see you? You know we wouldn’t have let you. What were you going to do? Sneak out of the house?”

“I don’t know…”

“Say you did. And say this guy decided to take advantage of you. What then? What would you have done then?”

She shrugs.

“We’re not trying to ruin your life. We’re trying to keep you safe and sound. We’re trying to keep you alive. Sixteen? Really? Nothing good was going to come of that and you know it. You need to smarten up, Monkey. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop treating your mum like shit. And stop terrorizing Kota. You know he takes everything seriously. Now he doesn’t want to sit on the toilet.”

“It was a joke. He doesn’t have to be such a baby about everything.”

“He’s FIVE. He practically IS a baby. If you don’t have anything to say to him, don’t say anything at all. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious, Amelia. You need to check that attitude of yours. And that mouth. Don’t talk to your mother the way you do. Don’t disrespect her. I’ve told you tons of times; no one disrespects my wife. That includes my own kids. Knock it off. Now. You better wake up tomorrow an entirely different person. Because I’m not going to put up with it. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

Journeying around to the side of the bed, he runs a palm over her hair and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Regardless of what you think about me right now, I love you.”

“I love you, dad. And I’m sorry. About everything. Especially about that boy.”

“You’re smarter than that. WAY smarter than that. Can we at least try to have a good Christmas? Think you can do that? Make it a pleasant one for everyone? Especially for yourself?”

She nods. 

“I DO love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will. Just...I don’t know...stop being such a shit. Stop being so…”

She grins up at him. “So you?”

“That sounds like your mother talking.”

‘Well, she IS really smart.”

“Be nice to her, okay? Because that is the love of my life. The mother of my kids. And no one treats her like that. She loves you. Don’t ever forget that. And I know you love her.”

“I do. I do love her.”

“Well why don’t you try telling her THAT once in a while? Because she’d rather hear that , than you saying you hate her. Get her some slack. She’s got a lot on her plate. And she’s trying really damn hard. If you’re still hungry, there’s leftovers in the fridge. And lots of ice cream. Candy cane crackle. Your favourite. It’s in the freezer in the basement. Don’t tell your mum I told her.”

Millie smiles. “Our little secret?”

“Our little secret.”

“I missed you, daddy. I was angry. That you left. You said you wouldn’t leave again. That there’d be no reason to. That once you became a boss, you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ve left before. I’ve been gone a few times.”

“A few times in FIVE years. And this is the second time this year alone. And you promised. That you wouldn’t do that anymore. Go after bad people. You PROMISED.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“What if something happened? What if you really DID die this time? What then? It would just be us. Seven kids and mum. And that’s not fair. Especially to mum. She loves us, but she loves YOU too. And she shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

‘“You’re right. She shouldn't.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is that what this is about? The way you’ve been behaving? Me being gone?”

“Some of it, I guess. I was mad. At you. But I missed you at the same time. You told us you’d never go back to it again; going after bad people. You said you were done with that. You promised mom. That you’d stay home.”

“And I have been. Staying home. It’s nothing like it was before.”

“But it still hurts her. Whether it’s once or twice a year. It still bugs her. Because she loves you and she’s worried about you. Why would you promise her stuff and then turn around and do the total opposite it? Why would you promise us stuff and not stick to it?”

“It needed to be done. Anil asked me to help out. He needed me.”

“WE need you. Mum needs you. Can’t he get someone else? He can find someone else. Mum can’t find another husband. We can’t find another dad. It would hurt us a lot more to lose you than it would hurt Anil.”

“I know it would. And I’m sorry. For leaving. If there was someone else or another way…”

“I don’t want you going away.” The tears finally come; large, hot tears that spill down tanned cheeks. “I don’t want you going away and dying. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my dad. I don’t want another dad.”

“Come here, Monkey. It’s okay. Come here.”

Tossing off the blankets, Millie scrambles out of bed; perching herself sideways on his lap and wrapping both arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Millie.” He hasn’t used the nickname in over a year. At least not in her presence. Ever since his then ten year old daughter announced she was finished with it and just wanted to use her full name. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to break my promise. And I’m sorry. That I did. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, daddy. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her temple; hand pressing down on the back of her head and drawing it down to his shoulder. Tightly holding her as she cries; letting her release all the tears and the pent up fear and worry and anger. Allowing her to cling to him; her sobbing turning into whimpers interspersed with loud sniffles. 

Tightly and protectively holding her until body stills and her breathing slows and evens out. Not having the heart to let her go even long after she’s fallen asleep.


	4. Safe and Warm

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho. 

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…” 

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame. 

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead. 

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments. 

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs. 

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted. 

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back. 

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes. 

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.


	5. Snowy Morning

The alarm sounds at ten to seven in the morning. The insistent and monotonous tone accompanied by the hustle and rumbles of snow plows clearing the streets below and the scrapes and bangs of shovels as neighbours tend to their properties. Despite the three Christmases spent in New York City and the nearly five years living in Telluride, he’s still not one hundred percent sold on the winter season. While the snow IS beautiful and the mere sight of it sparks joy in both his wife and children, it isn’t his most favorite thing in the world. He puts on a brave and pleasant face; indulging the kids’ excitement when it comes to sledding and skating and enjoying the sounds of their giggles and squeals when they’re in the backyard pelting each other with snowballs. And he can’t deny it DOES provide some of the quieter and more romantic moments between him and his wife. She loves the ‘ambiance’ it provides, enjoying those snowy nights in the hot tub and those quiet evenings spent cuddling on the couch after the kids have gone to bed; all the lights off in the living room safe for the glow from the fireplace and the curtains open to watch the snow as it comes down. But it’s the pain and the discomfort that comes with the dampness and the frigid temperatures; aggravating the arthritis that has taken up residence in the small of his back, both knees, and the deepest recesses of his right shoulder. While the pain is nowhere near as brutal as it used to be and the days of living in chronic agony are behind him, years of life lived dangerously on the edge and all of the injuries and wounds suffered on the job and during his military days ARE catching up to him. 

Gaspar was right about ONE thing. Getting old DOES suck.

Snagging his phone off the nightstand, he silences the alarm and drops the phone onto the mattress. He’s feeling the effects from the treks in the Cambodian jungle and the jet lag; muscles and joints stiff and tight and his body filled with an exhaustion and weariness he hasn’t felt in years. It isn’t used to life anymore; the long hours spent on his feet without very little food or drink and next to no sleep. It’s gotten accustomed to a somewhat regular existence; the intellectual work that comes with being a boss as opposed to the physical exertion and the blood on his hands. And it’s grown to love the domestic side of things. More than happy being a work from home husband and father; devoting himself to being attentive and hands on and the five year track record of not birthdays or anniversaries. His kids never have to worry about him not showing up to one of their special events; sports practices and games for TJ and Declan, Millie’s Muay Thai matches and tournaments, Tanner and his science fair projects and occasional dabbles in his school’s talent shows and plays. He’s quite the entertainer; somehow comfortable and at home on a stage in front of hundreds of people, able to play the guitar quite well and possessing a damn good voice for someone his age. But ask him to do it at home and it’s another story; he shuts down and becomes incredibly nervous and shy and any and all pressuring causing him to shut down and force people out. 

It’s been a journey to say the least; coming to a point of acceptance with his diagnosis and then discovering how to deal with it AND him. It’s a learning process. What may work one day could totally tank the next. And while it’s difficult to sit back and watch him struggle and even more to NOT to jump to his aid or render comfort and care, it’s better to let him come to you. Forcing an issue only makes things worse; he becomes increasingly sullen and irritable and -even as meek and mild as he usually is- prone to lashing out. It’s better if things are Tanner’s idea; allowing him to seek out help and affection instead of making him feel as if he’s being forced to do it. And it’s hard. Damn hard. Seeing your kid feel lost and alone even when in a room full of people. But he’s an incredible little human; smart and resilient and always finding his own ways to cope with situations and to soothe and comfort himself.

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. It’s been snowing on and off since he got home; steadily and heavily since shortly before midnight. TJ will have already set his own alarm; somehow enjoying being out in the frigid cold and finding satisfaction in manual labour. Despite his shortcomings -hair trigger temper and an obsessive need to control his mother’s movements and protect her at all costs- he’s a good kid. He loves deeply and profoundly; compassionate and empathetic and going above and beyond to always comfort and help his mother AND siblings. His bond with Tanner is enormous and exceeds all explanation; his twin brother his best friend and truest confidant despite their differences. And TJ goes out of his way to let Tanner know just how much he adores and admires him; learning as much as he can about Tanner’s Autism and letting his twin show him exactly how to handle certain situations if they arise. While still fearless and wild at times, he has his quiet and thoughtful moments; seeking out attention and affection from his parents and not shying away from cuddling up to his mother on the couch. 

None of those kids ever have to be embarrassed because of their individual needs. Allowed to be exactly who they are; never pressured to change themselves and never burdened with ridiculous expectations or adult problems. Loved and accepted just the way they are. It’s everything that Tyler never got when he was young and what had died the moment Esme’s father had; parents that loved them and nurtured them instead of unleashing hell. Their situations remarkably different but equally as traumatizing and damaging.

Rolling over onto his side, he pushes the removes the comforter from over his wife’s head and face and moves it down to collarbone level. Despite an always youthful and fresh faced appearance -despite all her bitching about the opposite since having their sixth and seventh child and hitting her fortieth birthday- she looks years younger while she sleeps. No lines of worry or stress across her forehead or at the corners of her eyes, a smile playing on her lips; completely at peace and feeling warm, safe, and secure. It both feeds his ego and fills him with a sense of pride; knowing he’s the one -the only one, according to her- that has ever been able make her feel that way. Mark had been the opposite; inflicting as much pain and torment -physically and mentally- as he could. And he’s spent the last twelve and a half years attempting to right another man’s wrongs. 

Gentle fingertips push wayward strands of hair away from the side of her face; palm resting against the side of her as he leans in to kiss her. Lips briefly lingering on her brow before journeying over her face; across the tops of her brows and on each eye, down the bridge of her nose and then onto her lips. He’s come to both enjoy and treasure these quiet moments; when the house is silent and still and nothing exists outside those four walls and beyond that closed door. It’s often the only time they do get alone; those minutes spent sharing long, lazy kisses and engaging in sleepy conversation. He’d come so close to losing at all; mere minutes away from never kissing her again or hearing her voice or her laugh. Over the course of the last five years he’s been determined to make every damn second count. And to ensure that she knows exactly how worshipped and adored she actually is.

****

Esme turns her face into his palm, pressing a kiss to the calloused skin. “What time is it?”

“Early. Very early.”

Stretching languorously, she wraps both arms around his neck and slides even closer; eyes never opening, forehead coming to rest against the end of his nose. “Why are you even up? All that travelling? The jet lag? How come you’re not sleeping in?”

“I got shit to do. It’s been snowing on and off since I got home yesterday. Came down pretty good last night. I need to get out there.”

“No.” She locks her hands together at the nape of her neck and drapes a leg over his. “You don’t. You need to stay right here. In bed. With me. Where it’s warm and it’s cozy. I need my human heating blanket.”

“You got like four blankets on your side of the bed. I think you’ll be fine.”

“You’re not going. I won’t let you. Stay. Just for a little while. Until the kids get up. You don’t have to leave with Tanner until at least nine. Why rush it?”

“Because if I don’t get out there and shovel it…”

“Text Jacobi. Get him to do it. Pay extra if you have to.”

Pushing his fingers through her hair, he places a kiss on her brow. “He’s your boyfriend. You text him.”

Esme frowns. “He’s seventeen years old!”

“Maybe you like them young now. Maybe you hit forty and became a cougar.”

“Nope. Not my style. I have you. And you’re close to fifty and still getting the job done, so…” she presses a series of kisses along his jaw and the underside of his chin. “...you get to stick around.”

“You know…” His fingers slip through her hair and onto her bare back; skimming along her spine and then over to a hip. Rendered speechless when her warm, moist lips reach the extremely sensitive spot under his ear; shuddering when the tip of her nose ever so gently glides along his jaw. “...you kinda hurt my feelings.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“You called me the F word.”

“Honey, as much as it hurts to hear it and as much as I take no delight in bruising your ego, you ARE closer to fifty than you are forty. Does it make you feel better that you’re the sexiest almost fifty year old EVER? That you’re still the hottest dad on the playground? Actually, the hottest GRANDPA on the playground.”

“Excuse you? Grandpa?”

“Ovi is one of ours. Maybe not by blood, but we’ve always loved him like he is. So yeah, grandpa. Twice over. Grandpa Tyler.”

“You’re mean, you know that? A savage. A real fucking savage.”

“I’m horrible. Just awful. The worst wife ever. I don’t know how you put up with it. Being treated just so terribly.”

“The sex is good. Really good, actually.”

She grins. “And you say I only married YOU for sex. I’m starting to think that was your hidden agenda all along. It wasn’t love. It was total unbridled, animalistic lust.”

“Oh there was definitely some of THAT. I’d say, I don’t know, fifty fifty?”

Esme frowns.

“Sixty forty?”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, so maybe eighty percent love, twenty percent animalistic lust?”

“Was that when we first got together? Eighty, twenty?”

“First five, six years, I guess.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what’s it at now? Twelve years and seven kids later.”

“What are your numbers at?”

“I asked YOU first. You don’t have to spare my feelings. I can handle it. We’ve been together more than a decade. We have seven children. There’s no way the percentage of animalistic lust is that high now. No way.”

“It is. Trust me. It is.”

“How? I’m almost thirty pounds heavier than when we first met, I’ve got stretch marks, I’ve got gray hair, I’ve got…”

Curling his arm around the middle of her back, he pulls her even tighter against him; a heavy, muscular leg draping over hers and keeping her in place. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re biased.” 

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it any less true.” He places a line of kisses along her jaw, and the one on her ear. Hand sliding underneath her arm and coming to rest on her side; fingertips lightly -and repeatedly- brushing against the side of her breast. “I don’t see what you see.”

“You don’t see the gray hair? The stretch marks? The weight I’ve gained?”

“I mean, I SEE it. I just don’t give a shit about any of it. And I don’t know why you care about it all so much. You’re beautiful. Even more now than you were than. You were pretty fucking hot back then. You’re just hotter now.”

“How? I wear clothes four sizes bigger than I wore then. There’s more snow on my roof than there is outside. How do you not…?”

“Because I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about any of it. None of that matters to me, Esme. You’re all that matters. And you’re still as beautiful now as you were then. If not more. Because back then? You weren’t the mother of my kids yet. I hadn’t seen you with a baby in your belly. MY baby. And now I have. Seven of them. That makes you even more beautiful.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “You know husband, you really do have your moments. You’ve become quite the sweet talker. And cuddler.”

“What can I say? You changed me. For the better. I’m never going to admit to liking the cuddling though. I do it‘cause YOU like it. I humour you.”

“Sure you do. Are you forgetting ‘the reach’? You do it every time I come back to bed in the middle of the night. You’ve been doing it for years. You don’t even open your eyes; you just reach out and grab me and pull me into you. I refuse to believe you’re totally asleep when you do that.”

“Maybe I miss you when you’re gone. Maybe I AM getting needy now that I’m getting closer to...you know.”

“Fifty?”

“How fucking dare you you say that word in my presence.”

She laughs, then sighs into his mouth when it covers hers. The kiss is long and languid; his hands sliding along the length of her back and over the swells off her ass and over her hips. They’re wider now. Her body thicker and heavier yet still incredible; curves and dips in all the right places, his hands and his mouth never tiring of exploring them. It’s the aftermath of her birthing seven children; incredible, beautiful little human beings that they’d somehow managed to create together, sometimes during the darkest and most trying of times. Her skin is impossible soft and supple; fingers and calloused palms loving the familiarity of her. 

“You know…” she sighs once more when his lips find the side of her neck; a hand tightly fisted in her hair. “...my percentage rate is quite high.”

He grazes his teeth along smooth skin; feeling her shudder against him as his tongue traces the outer edge of her ear. “How high?”

She giggles when his forearm slides down to the small of her back and he uses his much larger and stronger body to push her against the mattress. “Well, right now? You with no shirt on? And you ready and raring to go? The lust is part very, very high.”

He places a knee on either side of her body, then reaches down to unbutton the flannel shirt she sports. ““What are the numbers looking like?”

“I mean, I ALWAYS love you. That’s never up for debate. But…” she pauses as his hands push the garment open, shivering when his fingertips glide over her ribs. “...as for the lust part? I’m thinking it’s about ninety-five to five. Right at this moment.”

“Ninety-five, huh? Guess I’m doing something right.”

“I guess you are.” Her hands slide into his hair; nails digging into his scalp as his mouth begins a slow and almost agonizing descent down her body. It’s a mind numbing and body quivering juxtaposition; his lips and tongue soft and moist and the roughness of his beard and the calluses on his palms. It’s familiar; the feel of his mouth and hands, the scent that lingers on his skin and in his hair, the weight of his body. Yet even after almost twelve and a half years, she still can’t get enough of it. In her previous life...when she’d been young and jaded and carrying an enormous amount of her own emotional and personal baggage...she would have long ago grown tired of it. Of him. But it’s been more than a decade and everything is still so powerful; adoration and love and lust.

He’s grinning up at her as his hands fall on her knees and push her legs apart; his sparkling as he presses a series of kisses to the inside of one thigh, then the other. “What’s it at now? The percentage?”

“I'd say about ninety eight.”

“What do I gotta do to get that last two percent?”

Dragging her top teeth along her bottom lip, her fingers tightening in his hair when the tip of his tongue travels along her pubic bone. “Let's put it this way,” she says. “You’re definitely going in the right direction.”

*****

She lays in the middle of the bed watching him as he dresses; on her side with elbow propped on the mattress and the side of her head resting in her palm. The sight never gets old; the way the muscles bulge and tendons and ligaments ripple with the simple act of pulling on clothes. That long torso and powerful limbs and feet of beautiful tanned, smooth skin; ‘decorated’ by over a dozen tattoos and three times as many scars and ‘imperfections’. It’s the same view she’s had for over twelve years; still admiring it in the same way she had during those five days in Dhaka. When her mouth and hands had slowly and hungrily explored every inch of him Marvelling at the way those muscles moved under her fingertips; how that wide back, broad shoulders and biceps and triceps would feel when he was propped above her on outstretched arms. How that body would tremble and then lock up shortly before his release; eyes closing and his hair falling across his forehead. A brief moment of vulnerability; allowing her to see past the tattered edges and the rough facade and get a glimpse of what..and WHO..he really was. 

And she remembers those talks afterwards; when fingertips would explore the various scars covering his face and body. How he’d given an almost self conscious smile and a hesitant: “You can ask about them.” It had been the start of things; open and honest conversation between two broken and jaded people that..for reasons unknown to them at the time...had found themselves completely at ease with each other and trusting one another in ways they hadn’t trusted another human in a hell of a long time. If ever.

More scars have been added since then. Most days they don’t bother her. They’re simply part of him; permanent reminders of everything that he’d been through both during his abusive childhood, his time in the military, and the years spent on the job. Yet there’s moments where the occasional ‘war wound’ captures her attention and stirs something up deep inside; old feelings of worry and fear and painful recollections of how close she’d come to losing them. The scar at the small of his back -just to right of the spine- has a tendency to stir up those emotions; what should have been the size of a normal bullet hole becoming much more gaping and jagged when Nathan had stuck his fingers into the wound to inflict as much damage and pain as possible. It isn’t the scar itself that bothers her, but the memories that it dredges up; the things that had been done to the person she loves more than life itself and the permanent issues that have been caused. 

“I know it bothers you,” he says, as he pulls a pair of sweats over the ones he already sports.

“The fact you’ll wear two layers of jogging pants but won’t wear long johns? You’re right. It DOES bother me. You have those perfectly good Under Armour things I bought you. That will keep you warm when you’re out there. I bought you three pairs. Three years ago. They’re still in your dresser and two of them still have the tags on them.”

“I don’t like them. They’re too tight.”

“You wear a wetsuit when you go surfing sometimes but THOSE are too tight? That makes no sense. They’re looser than a wetsuit.”

“A wetsuit is totally different. Those things? They feel weird.”

She stares at him pointedly. “You’ve never even worn them.”

“Once. I tried on the one pair. That’s why the tag is off. I mean, I appreciate your effort, but…”

“You are so difficult. You complain about the cold, yet you won’t wear those or thermals. You barely wear a hat or gloves. You absolutely refuse a scarf. And you wonder why you’re freezing half the time? I’m trying to keep you alive, here. Or least prevent you from getting frostbite or hypothermia.”

“I’m fine. I bundle up. In my own way. I wear a hoodie; keep my ears warm.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it. Goddamnit, you’re stubborn. I thought it would get better as you got older. Nope, it’s only getting worse. Where’s your glasses? Do you have any idea where they are?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Somewhere.”

“You didn’t even take them with you. I had to bring them from Australia. And let’s not get started on how you can’t hear shit out of your right ear and won’t do anything about it.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I can’t hear what you’re saying right now. Can you speak up? I can’t make out what you’re saying.”

Scowling, she snags one of the pillows from the top of the bed and tosses it in his direction. “And you wonder why I have gray hair. You ARE sexy though. If it’s wrong that I could lie here all day and watch you dress and undress, I don’t want to be right.”

“And you call me biased?”

“Sexiest husband ever. A total DILF. Or is it GILF? Instead of dad I’d like to fuck, grandpa I’d like to fuck.”

“I swear to God, if you call me that one more time…”

“What are you going to do about it? You wanna fight? Let’s fight. I can take you.”

Grinning, he tugs both a long and short sleeve shirt over his head. “You probably could. It’s the little ones you have to watch out for; sketchy motherfuckers.”

“Want to have a duel? Let’s have a duel. I’ll steal two of TJ’s Nerf guns.”

“You didn’t learn your lesson the last time?”

“That was NOT a duel. That was you lying in wait like a damn sniper. I didn’t even see you. And you shot me in the ass! It left a mark!”

“The day before you nailed me in the nuts with a lacrosse ball.”

“I didn’t mean to. I used to be really good at lacrosse. I just have bad aim now. I guess I’m still pretty powerful though; it brought you to your knees.”

“You’ve brought me to my knees many times. Just usually not in a painful way. You’re lucky we have all the kids we’re going to have. That hurt. And raised my voice a couple octaves for a few hours.”

“I kissed it better later. Among other things. And I don’t get why you get so bent out of shape over being called ‘grandpa’. You ARE a grandpa. Deal with it.”

“You need to shut the fuck up now.”

“Well you are,” she huffs. “I hate to break it to you, but you ARE old enough to be a grandpa. Even if we take Ovi out of the equation, it is highly possible that if Austin was still alive, he would have made you a grandfather by now. He’d be twenty two. That’s more than old enough to have kids of his own.”

“And I still wouldn’t like being called a grandpa, so…”

“Face it, you’re middle aged.”

“Esme, no one lives to be ninety four.”

“A LOT of people do. You’ll probably live to be a hundred and four. You’ll probably outlive me.”

“That is NOT a conversation we’re going to have.”

“Well I don’t care what you say, husband. You ARE the sexiest grandpa on earth. Two pairs of jogging pants and all.”

Smirking, he snags her long discarded shirt off the floor and tosses it towards her. “Put some clothes on. You’re distracting me.”

“Now suddenly you DON’T want to see me naked? And you wonder why I have confidence issues.”

“Trust me, if it was just us, I wouldn’t care if you walked around naked all day. Easy access. But I’ve got shit to do. And you’re not making it easy for me to get going. I’ve got to shovel, I’ve got to get Tanner up and light a fire under his ass. We’ve got six other kids that could come running in here any minute. So please, cover the girls up.”

“Since when do ‘the girls’ get your motor going?” She teases, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “You’ve always been an ass man.”

“I’m a ‘whatever naked part of you’ man. You should know THAT by now.”

“You ARE very easy to please. By the way, have I ever told you how much I actually enjoy the Aussie kiss?”

Grinning, he approaches the bed. “Not in so many words. But I can tell how much you like it. My fucking head hurts; you pulling my hair so hard.” He leans down to kiss her; having to place both palms on the mattress to prevent himself from falling on top of her when she aggressively yanks him down. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want in me.”

“You are very distracting. In a very evil, but sexy way.”

“I told you to text Jacobi. Had you listened to me, we’d be naked still. But nooo. You just had to go and ruin all the fun.”

“You’ve gotten a little...I don’t know...extra...when it comes to sex.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Hell no. I’m just saying. You’re a little more...needy.”

“I read this magazine article that interviewed women at very stages of their sexual lives. Women in their forties tended to have more frequent and extremely explicit sexual fantasies. They also said that once forty hit, they began having the best sex they ever experienced.”

“So what you’re saying is it sucked before you hit forty?”

“Hardly. It’s never sucked. Not even drunk sex with you sucks. Sloppy and over too quick? Yes. But sucky? No. What I’m saying is that I’m forty one and I’m in my prime when it comes to sex and needing my sexual needs fulfilled.”

“And what was all the sex leading up to when you turned forty?”

Esme grins. “Practice.”

“Practice, huh? Practice that made seven kids?"

“Well, they’re just bonuses. But yeah. Forty one, now. Sexual prime. You know what that means…”

“Means you might need a younger guy,” Tyler teases.

“Hardly. I have you. I don’t need or want anyone else. Young or old. You’re perfect. I’ll keep you.”

“Good. ‘Cause I kind of like it here.” He kisses her once more, then smoothes her hair away from the sides of her face. “And I wasn’t talking about my two pairs of sweatpants. When I said ‘it bothers you’.”

“I know. I know what you were talking about.”

“Bothers you all the time or…?”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not the scar itself. That isn’t what gets to me. It’s the things I think about sometimes; when I see it. And it’s not always. Ninety percent of the time, when I see it, I don’t think about it all. The other ten percent? Yeah, I look at it and it makes me think not so nice things.”

“Because I was away? Doing a job? Made you think of it?”

“Maybe. Just sometimes it creeps up. Sometimes I look at it and think about what happened. I think about HIM. And I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about him.”

“I don't want you to either. You want to talk about it, though? If it’s bugging you…”

“No. It was just a passing thing. I’m fine now. It just hit me and then it was gone. I’m good.”

He stares down at her.

“I am good,” Esme assures him, and places a hand on the side of his face and kisses him. “I really should put some pants on though.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“Unless you change your mind about texting Jacobi and you want to stay here with me instead? It’ll be at least half an hour before any of the kids get up. We can do A LOT in half an hour.”

“As much as I want to and as tempting as that is…”

A knock comes to the bedroom door, and Esme frowns in its direction. “Go away. We’re not here.”

“Mum, is dad awake?” TJ’s voice from the hallway. “I want to go out and shovel. But you won’t let me go out alone. I don’t see why I can’t.”

“Because you’re ten, maybe? And a ten year old doesn’t need to be out on the street alone?”

“I’m not scared. I can take care of myself. And I’ve got a shovel. If anyone tries anything with me, I’ll just…”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” she implores. “Don’t take after your dad when it comes to hurting people with garden tools.”

“Well technically it’s NOT a garden tool,” Tj says. “It’s used for snow, so…”

Tyler grins down at her. “He’s got a point.”

“Dad will be down in a minute,” she says. “Do NOT go out there by yourself. Hear me?”

“I hear ya. By the way, Kota is up and he wants breakfast. Hang on…” Whispering ensues; TJ’s quickly deepening voice mixed with his little brother’s much tinier and high pitched one. “...he says he wants pancakes.”

“Well take him downstairs and get him some chocolate milk and I’ll be down. Okay?”

“Okay,” TJ agrees.

She waits until their footsteps become lighter and quieter and begin their descent of the stairs, then gives a dramatic pout. “So much for sexy time.”

“Later,” Tyler promises, pressing a kiss to lips and then her forehead.

“Bring me something back? From when you go out with Tanner?”

“I think we can make a stop. Hit up your favorite bakery. What do you feel like?”

Snagging him by the front of the shirt, she pulls him down into one last kiss. “Surprise me.”

*****

After shovelling they sit on the covered back porch; a hot chocolate for TJ and a piping out coffee for him, the propane heater -designed in the style of an old fashioned campfire- turned on high to keep them warm. As he sips the strong and much needed brew, he watches his oldest son out of the corner of his eyes; the ends of his sun bleached blond hair sticking out the bottom of the knit beanie he sports, his hands impossibly large for someone only ten years of age. He seems so much older all of a sudden; broad shouldered and wide chested, his legs and torso long and thin. 

During his quiet and thoughtful moments, TJ seems so mature; those brilliant blue eyes holding a wise that goes beyond his years. While he hasn’t toned down his fearless and often wild personality, he does have times when he’s soft spoken and introspective. Sullen, even. A darkness to his face that isn’t normally present; replacing that broad smile and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the glow to his face. Tyler sees a lot of himself at ten years old; his down moods and quiet spells brought on by his tumultuous and abusive home life. TJ is happy and go lucky; loving life and everyone in it and making friends wherever he goes. But there’s times he does settle; where his mind goes to things OTHER than sports and surfing and what kind of trouble he can get himself into. Very much a budding young man; stuck in that unsure and awkward time between childhood and teenage-dom.

“So what was that all about yesterday?” Tyler asks, and sips his coffee. “You and that Jacobi kid?”

“I just don’t like him. He annoys me.”

“Any particular reason why? There must be something about him that annoys you.”

TJ shrugs. “He’s just...I don’t know...he pisses me off. Big time.”

“What’s he done? To piss you off? Say something about your brother? Maybe your sister? I know you claim to hate Millie, but I also know that you’re pretty protective of her; you’d have her back no matter what.”

“It’s not about her. Or Tanner. And he’s lucky he HASN’T said anything about either of them. Because I would beat his ass.”

“So what’s going on? Why’d he piss you off? He must have done something.”

“He called mum pretty. His exact words were ‘your pretty little mum’. And he wasn’t saying it in a good way, dad. He wasn’t saying it in a WEIRD way.”

“A lot of guys have a crush on her. Can’t say I blame them; she’s awful pretty.”

“That’s not the point! I don’t care that he thinks she’s pretty. That doesn’t bother me. It was the way he said it. It was creepy.”

“He’s just got a bit of a crush on her. He’s harmless.”

“I don’t like him coming around here. Asking about her. And he’s not just asking about her because he shovels the snow. He’s asking about her because he likes her. And for some reason, he thinks she likes him. As if that would ever happen! She’s old enough to be his mum. That’s just messed up!”

“He’s just got a thing for her. It’s no big deal. Your mum’s a big girl. She knows how to handle herself. If it was bothering her, she’d tell him off. Have you ever known her NOT to tell someone off if they’re getting on her nerves?”

TJ shakes his head.

“I know I told you to keep an eye on things and protect her while I’m gone, but I think you’re going a little overboard. She’s not some meek and mild little thing. She’s not weak. She is more than capable of handling herself. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. She’s tough. Don’t underestimate her.”

“But you DID ask me to keep an eye on her. And that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“But you’re going a little too hardcore with it. You can’t control her, mate. You can’t stop her from talking to people or making friends. That’s who your mum is; she makes friends easily. Where do you think you get it from? Just take it down a notch, okay? You’re just stressing her out and putting more on her plate when you get like that. Just take it easy. She’ll let you know if she needs you.”

“I don’t care who she’s friends with. Or who she talks to. But he’s just plain weird. It’s creepy; someone not much older than me having a crush on my mom. I swear he’s going to ask her out on a date.”

“I highly doubt that’s going to happen. She’s married. She has seven kids. I don’t think he’s at the point of asking her out.”

“If he does, I hope she tells him off. I hope she tells him to get lost. Because he’s super weird and he creeps me out and I don’t want him around my mum. Maybe you can tell him off. Tell him to stay away from your wife.”

“IF he gets out of hand, I will. For now we’ll just hang back. See what he does. To be honest, I don’t think he’ll do anything. He’s probably too scared to.”

“Because he knows you’ll break him in half. He knows you can rip his head off and shove it up his ass. If you DO do that, can I watch?”

“You’ll be the first person I call, I promise.”

“Good,” TJ says, and then sips at his hot chocolate. “Dad…” his face turns serious once again, eyes darkening. “...can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, mate. What’s up?”

“Why did you go away? For work? I thought you were supposed to just be a boss now.”

“I am. Just a boss. Anil asked me to do him a favour. I couldn’t say no.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you say no? You have all kinds of people you could have given him. Who could have done the job. Why did it have to be you?”

“Because there was no room for screw ups. He knew I’d get it done right. There was no one else he trusted.”

“Well do you have to go away again? This is twice this year. That you’ve gone away. After you told us you wouldn’t go away ever again.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully a long while.”

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere. You promised you wouldn’t. After what happened when I was five, you told us that you wouldn’t go away. That you were done with that part of your life. That you were just going to stay home and run the business and be around for us and mum.”

“I know. I know what I said. I know…”

“Why do you always break that promise? Every time you promise us or mum or you won’t go, you do. And that’s not fair. To keep breaking your promises. It’s especially not fair to mum.”

“You’re right. It’s not. And I don’t want to go away but…”

“You’re the boss. You have tons of people working for you. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to go. Isn’t almost dying TWICE enough? Why does there have to be a third time?”

“TJ, I…”

“Mum doesn’t do well when you’re gone. She has a really hard time. She misses you. A lot. And she worries about you. That she’s never going to see you again. She cries. A LOT. And she doesn’t sleep and she doesn’t eat. Why do you want to do that to her? Make her go through that?”

“I don’t want her going through that. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt your mum.”

“But you ARE,” TJ insists. “You ARE hurting her. And that’s not fair to mummy. She shouldn’t have to go through that. Can’t you just stay home? With us? With her?”

“I’ve only gone away a few times. In FIVE years. What more do you want from me?”

“You should be home ALL the time. Like you promised you would be. If something bad happened to you, mum wouldn’t survive. And none of us would either. Just stay home, dad. Please. If not for us, for mummy. Can’t you love her enough to just stay home for her?”

“It's not that I…”

“Hey…” Esme slides open the sliding door and pokes her head outside. “...sorry to interrupt, but Tanner says you guys should get going soon. Especially if you want to get a table at your normal place. I told him you’d have to shower first. And you know how anxious he gets if his plans aren’t going the way he thinks they should.”

“I’ll be right in,” Tyler smiles at her over his shoulder. “Tell him I won’t be long.”

“And TJ, breakfast will be ready soon. I’ll make you some french toast. Sound good?”

“Sounds good, mummy. Thank you. I’ll be in in a second. I promise.”

“And don’t forget to shower. No stinky boys allowed at the kitchen table.” She gives a final smile, then ushers a snow covered Saju and Mac into the house and closes the door behind them.

“Mummy loves you,” TJ says. “She loves you so much. And she wouldn’t be the same if anything happened to you. Can’t you stay home. For her? Don’t you love her enough to do that? To give up at that part of things for good?”

“I love your mom more than you could possibly understand. More than you ever WILL understand.”

“Then stay home, dad. Please. If not for us kids, for mum. Because she deserves that. You being home. I don’t like seeing her sad. And I really don’t like seeing her cry. Can you do that? For her? Stay?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Sighing heavily, TJ downs the remains of his hot chocolate and then jumps up and heads for the door. Pausing to look over his shoulder as his hand closes around the handle. “That’s not good enough.”


	6. Neighbours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character!! Desmond's face claim is actor Cress Williams :D

The ‘to do list’ is long and lengthy but not unmanageable. 

Inside and outside decorations, picking out a tree and having it dropped off the next day, last minute presents and stocking stuffers to grab, a massive grocery list that includes the usual staples and the ‘extras’ that always make their appearance at Christmas time. The convenience of a big city is one thing she’s always missed; malls with everything you need under one roof, strips of your favorite, eclectic little shops, delivery for everything under the sun. Never having to own a car; Uber and taxis summoned with just one phone call, the subway just a block away. The younger Esme...the one fresh off a shitty first marriage...had loved every second in New York City. That spacious loft -with its exposed brick walls and industrial lighting and Juliet balcony- in Brooklyn, the Broadway shows she’d attend, the high end shops like Tiffany’s, Chanel, and Prada that she’d do little more than browse in; dreaming about all the things she would buy if she was ever fortunate enough to have money to burn. Trips to Central Park; reading a book or sipping a latte while sitting on the edge of the fountain or treating herself to lunch at Tavern on the Green. She’d never been bored; filling every minute of her free time with something new to experience. Taking the subway into different ethnic areas; trying new foods and drink and buying newly discovered -to her- spices and intriguing ingredients to try out at home. And while she’d been alone, she’d never been lonely; always finding ways to keep herself busy.

While it’s nice to come back and spend time in the BIg Apple, she no longer misses it with such intensity. THAT Esme..the one who’d lived in that loft apartment and who’d window shop at the high end retailers...no longer exists. She died almost thirteen years ago; her life coming to end on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It had been time; out with the old, in with the new. And there’d been something so incredibly empowering about it; never returning to either the city or Colorado and having her step father pack up the necessities and ship them to her. Many people would consider it foolish; throwing a somewhat stable and comfortable life away for something so different. A country on the other side of the world, a man she barely knew yet her heart was certain she was in love with, a tiny and cramped apartment outside of Sydney with barely any clothes in the closet and only second hand, mismatched furniture to decorate the place. But it had turned out to be everything she’d wanted; a change in pace and scenery and a life she never knew she was missing out on. That man she barely knew outside of sex quickly proving to be the love of her life; not just a lover, eventual spouse and baby daddy, but her best friend. The one and only person she truly trusted; who’d been so willing to give up his life to save hers and made her feel safe and protected...and LOVED...in ways she’d never experienced before.

Australia quickly became home. Despite the lingering issues from Dhaka -the slow healing process and the financial issues and the worry of retaliation IF word ever got out that he had survived- they’d been happy. Not needing much; enjoying those evenings on the couch, watching television and eating ice cream right out of the container, those trips -as a couple and then newlyweds and eventually with a tiny Millie in her daddy’s arms, the long and quiet -and often post coital- conversations that had become their norm. They’d gone through a hell of an ordeal together; forming a bond that other people simply couldn’t understand. Both of them could have easily died that day; Tyler from his injuries, her due to the decision she’d made to stick around in an effort to keep him alive. After that, they’d sworn to never take a single second for granted; enjoying the ‘getting to know you’ process even as a newly married couple and her with a baby growing in her belly. It hadn’t been a conventional start to things; those five days in that cramped and dirty hotel room in Dhaka followed by an unexpected little bundle and her decision to give up her old life. But it had worked. THEY had worked. Despite all the odds stacked against them and everything that said they shouldn’t. The ordeal they’d survived giving them an appreciation of each other; putting down that foundation of respect and mutual awe that everything else could -and would- be built upon.

As amazing as it all sounds -finding the love of your life, discovering your own slice of paradise, starting a family- it’s work. Love and everything that comes with it is a lot of work, in fact. It’s arguments over both stupid shit and important issues; it’s hurt and anger and bitterness due to miscommunication or simply not taking the others feelings into considering. It’s learning how the other works and functions so you can be the one to provide comfort, stability, and aid; patience and deep rooted concern and the desire to keep them safe and healthy driving you. 

Lust is one thing; immense physical attraction extremely important and definitely an added bonus. But at the end of the day, it’s other forms of intimacy that keep things alive and well; the simple act of holding hands while sitting on the couch or even driving in the car, the unexpected hugs and kisses, the little things you do for one another without even thinking, the teasing and the laughter and the conversations. It’s one thing to love someone and physically WANT them, it’s another to actually ENJOY them; their company and their smile and the sound of their voice and the way they cheer you up even on the worst days. How they talk you through hard times and how quick they are to dry your tears and want to make things right; willing to do anything and everything within their power to make you happy and to feel wanted and appreciated. It’s all those things that keep things going even when they feel like they’re falling apart.

******

“Mum!” TJ calls, as he bounds down the stairs and through the immense space that make up the living and dining areas; an easy and clean flow directly into the counter. “Check it out! You gotta see my outfit?”

With a mug of tea pressed to her lips, she glances up from the spiral notebook in front of her. It’s one of many that usually take up residence in one of the kitchen drawers; a different colour cover indicating which kid it is assigned to, two for things that are needed when it comes to household items and repairs, another for things like groceries and personal products. She’s always been organized, but something ‘snapped’ over the course of the last five years; an obsessive of sorts when it comes to keeping affairs in order.

“What the heck are you wearing?” she inquires, as her oldest son sprints through the living and dining area and then uses his socks to allow him to slide the rest of the way. An almost victorious and proud grin on his face when he comes to a stop against the island. His outfit of choice is an eyebrow raiser; jogging pants enormous and incredibly baggy, a hoodie at least four sizes too big, a black knit beanie on his head. 

“It’s my New York City look. For the mean streets. You like it?”

She grins and sips her tea. “The mean streets, huh? There’s nothing quite as dark and dangerous as the vicious and cold, dark alleys of Gramercy Park.”

“It’s bad ass. New York City. Maybe not exactly where we live, but…”

“You’re pretty far removed from the bad assery of The Big Apple, but I admire your spirit. If I ever find myself getting mugged or having to walk down a dark street at two in the morning, I know who to call.”

“I’d protect you, mum. I don’t care how big and bad someone is. I’d kick their ass for you. Or at least try to.”

“And THAT is why you’re my favorite. Although don’t tell your brothers and sisters; that’ll cause too much drama.”

“Your secret is safe with me. OUR secret.” He slings an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek. “What’cha doing?”

“Lists. One of many. Things we need in the house and things we need to do.” She eyes him from head to toe, mug against her lips. "Is that your dad’s hoodie? AND his pants?”

“He let me have them. I asked if he had anything old I could wear; that he wasn’t going to use anymore. This is what he gave me.”

“You do realize he’s more than a foot taller than you and about...I don’t know...a hundred pounds heavier.”

“I weigh a hundred pounds now. Dad’s like one eighty.”

“He was one eighty five when he got out of the hospital. Five years ago. He’s two ten now. Soaking wet. And you’re five feet? Since when?”

“Since yesterday. I had Tanner measure me.”

“You have a lot of damn nerve, kid. Being only half an inch shorter than me. At TEN.”

“I share DNA with a giant. Dad’s six three. I’ve got more of his genes than yours.”

“Yes, I know. I see more and more of those genes every day. You’re looking more like him all the time. And don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing. A VERY good thing. But five feet? Already? What the hell?”

“I can’t help it. Blame genetics.”

“You’re going to be massive. You’re probably going to be taller than your dad. And if you keep lifting weights like you do and you start going heavier as you get older, you’ll be huge by sixteen. A good huge. It’s depressing. You’re depressing me.”

“Sorry, mummy.” He kisses her cheek once more, then joking places his forearm on the top of her head. “You’re going to make a good arm rest. Thanks for being absurdly short.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. I brought you into this world, I can take you out.”

“Dad says the tiniest ones are always the most feisty. I think that’s why he fell in love with you; you’re little but you don’t take any shit. Even from him.”

“He likes a challenge, that’s for sure.” 

Sipping her tea, she watches him as he heads for the fridge; rummaging through it before coming up with a container of some of the baked goods Tanner had already blessed the family with, and a bottle of Gatorade. He even walks like his father; those gigantic feet and that long, slightly bow legged gait. TJ is more awkward; stuck at the stage between still being a child, yet quickly nearing his teenage years. And he’s become far more mature since hitting double digits; still possessing that extremely active and almost hyper personality, but prone to more serious and thoughtful moments. And at times he looks years older; when his eyes darken and his lips set into a thin, serious line and his brow furrows. So much of his dad exists in him. Both inside AND out. And that smile; the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and slightly wrinkles the bridge of his nose. It’s on his face now; as he opens the lid on the container of treats and sets it -and his drink- on the counter top before fetching the pot of tea from the stove and warming up the contents of her mug.

“You certainly are my best son,” she chides. It’s only PARTLY a joke. Although at times he can be quite the handful and his ability to regulate his emotions and temper can cause issues both at home and at school, he’s a wonderful kid; loving so deeply and profoundly. 

“Tanner wanted me to give you this,” he reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and pulls out a folded sheet of printer paper. “Things he needs. For his baking. He’s really good, huh? At the whole baking and cooking thing? Like, INSANELY good.”

“He’s quite the talent,” Esme agrees. “But so are YOU. You’ve got your own things you’re amazing at.”

“But not like him. He’s crazy smart and he can play the guitar and sing and all this baking and making dinner and stuff. He’s like a dude Martha Stewart! You know what he should do? Start a Youtube channel. People would LOVE him. People are suckers for a cute kid.”

“Well, you know Tanner; how nervous and anxious and shy he gets. You should bring it up to him. If anyone can talk him into something, it’s his big brother. He idolizes you.”

“I don’t know why. I’m not THAT great.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty damn awesome in my books. And you’re a really good big brother. You should talk to him. He’d be willing to try, I bet. Maybe it’s something you could do together. He’d love that. He loves spending time with you. And I know it’s been hard; him going to a different school.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been the best thing that’s ever happened,” TJ laments, and helps himself to one of the peanut butter and chocolate squares in the container. “It’s been four years and I STILL miss him. I loved having him in my class. And I loved hanging out with him at lunch and at recess. And sitting with him on the bus.”

“It was a hard decision to make. But it was the best decision. For him.”

“Yeah, my school isn’t exactly an intellectual wonderland. He’s better off where he is. With other brainiacs like him. But still, I do miss him.”

“I’m sure he misses you too. But you get a lot of time together. At home and stuff. And I always love Fridays; the bus dropping him off at your school and you guys coming to see me at the store. Hanging out until I close. Hands down my favorite day of the week.”

TJ smiles. “Mine too.”

“And I thought I was organized,” she comments, as she studies Tanner’s very neat and tidy list. 

“He’s kinda anal, huh? About some things? I don’t mean that in a bad way. Just that he’s very…”

“Particular?”

TJ nods. “You know, I wish he’d see himself the way I see him. He’s always worried that he’s weird and that people don’t like him because of it. He always talks about how his brain isn’t like everyone else’s and that he wishes it was. You know what I wish? That more people were like Tanner. Because he’s talented and he’s unique and he sees the world so differently than everyone else. I know he struggles with some stuff, but it’s not a bad thing; him being the way he is. Sometime I think he’s better off than all of us.”

“Unfortunately, self hate seems to be a genetic trait as well. Who does that remind you of? Who else sees themselves in a bad light?”

“Yeah, dad is pretty good at that. Not liking who he is. I don’t why; I think he can be kinda awesome.”

“I think he can too. He’s just had a rough time. For a LONG time. He’s working on it. On a lot of things. But you know what’s really amazing at? Being a dad. I’m pretty lucky. I landed myself a pretty incredible guy. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. And as for Tanner, maybe you should tell him what you just told me. Because I guarantee you, if he heard that from his big brother? It would mean the world to him. He needs to hear stuff like that. Tell him, okay?” She rubs her palm in slow circles in the middle of his back. “It would make his day. Probably his whole year.”

“I will. I’ll tell him. Do you think he’ll live alone? Away from you and dad?”

“I don’t know,” Esme admits, and cupping her mug in both hands, turns around and leans back against the countertop. “Your dad and I talk about it from time to time. If Tanner will ever get to that stage. If he doesn’t…” she shrugs. “...he doesn’t. I mean, he could live in the pool house. He’d be close enough to home so if he did need help, we’d be right there.”

“What if he lived with me? If we got a place together? When we’re old enough, of course. Say when we’re nineteen. And I’ve got a good job. Like in the military or something.”

“That’s a lot to take on, Teej. A career like that and your brother. Would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s Tanner. He’s my baby brother. And not just any baby brother. We were made at the same time. We came out only a few minutes apart. I spent nine months with him; inside of you. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him?”

“A lot will change over the next nine, ten years. You might get tired of him by then.”

“I am NEVER getting tired of him. He’s my brother. I love him. And if it gives you and dad a break after taking care of him for so long, that’s good enough for me.”

“You are something else, Baby-Man. You really are. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I know you do. And I like that you still call me that. Even if I AM almost taller than you.”

“You know, you’ve been so cute and helpful these last few days, that I will ignore your cheap shot. You really ARE your dad. Head to toe. Inside and out. Facial expressions and everything. It’s freaky.” She turns and helps herself to one of the treats; a chocolate concoction with marshmallows and coconut inside and a coating made from crushed up Frosted Flakes. “You know, I craved these for my entire pregnancy with you and Tanner. Your dad used to make them for me. Dozens at a time. He’d even get up at three am to do it. Or to go get tacos. That’s probably why you like Mexican food so much.”

TJ’s eyes widen. “Dad used to bake? At three am?”

“At all hours of the day. He’s actually really good at it. These were my favourite. He made them for me; my first birthday after we got married. We had just had Millie and we didn’t have a lot of money to throw around but he still managed to make it special. Australian wildflowers, a picnic on the beach, and these. It was pretty awesome. One of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. Spent with my favorite human.”

“Dad really DOES have his moments.”

“Yeah, he really does.” Esme smiles, and takes a bite of the square. “You know, your grandma used to make these things.”

“Like mean, awful grandma or grandma Adeline?”

“Grandma Adeline. Your dad’s mom. She was quite the baker. Tanner must have inherited that from her. I know Declan got her red hair.”

“That must have been really hard. On dad. Her dying when he was little.”

“It was.” She sips at her tea and picks up the long discarded pen; absentmindedly doodling in the notebook as she speaks. “ It caused a lot of issues for him. It was pretty painful for him.”

“He still doesn’t like to talk about her.”

“It hurts. Even now. But he’s coming around. It’s not as hard for him anymore.”

“Is it true that grandpa used to beat on him? I heard him and Uncle Koen talking about it. A couple years ago. Dad seemed pretty upset. He normally doesn’t cry in front of anyone BUT you. He was kinda emotional.”

“It is true. Unfortunately. Your grandpa was a drunk and he was a narcissist and he hated his wife for having a child. It took the attention from him. Which I know sounds really weird and twisted. But that’s what happened. And when she was alive, he couldn’t stand her loving on your dad and spending time with him. So he took it out on her; beating her and saying mean things to her. Your dad used to have to listen. Sometimes grandpa would make your dad watch. Said it was to teach him how to ‘treat a woman’ and make them ‘learn their place.”

“I’m glad dad didn’t listen. For your sake. And his. I think you’d beat his ass if he ever did stuff like that to you.”

“I definitely would. And he knows it too. But, your dad isn’t like that. He isn’t the type to treat women like that. I know he has his issues, but THAT? He would never, ever, stoop to that level. It’s just not the kind of person he is.”

“Do you think that’s why dad DOES have the issues he does? The brain stuff? Because of how he got treated as a kid?”

“I don’t think it’s the only reason why, but it definitely added to it. You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. About mental health stuff. What’s going on? You’re ten. You don’t need to worry about this. Your dad is fine. He’s doing great. A lot better than anyone thought he would. So why…?”

“I gave him shit,” TJ says, then gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I mean ‘crap’. I gave him crap.”

“You gave your dad crap about something? That’s pretty bold. What did he do that pissed you off? 

“ I told him it was wrong. That he went away. To work. That he shouldn’t have gone.”

“TJ, why would you…?”

“You wouldn’t have done it. Given him crap for it. And I know you wanted to. I know you lied. When you told him you were okay with it. You didn’t tell him the truth, mum. You just told him what he wanted to hear.”

“Sometimes we do that,” Esme reluctantly admits. “When we love someone and we don’t want to ruffle feathers. Your dad’s come a long way. He used to be gone all the time. He was off doing jobs more than he was home with us. And I know you probably don’t remember all of that because you were so young; the missed birthdays and anniversaries. The time he couldn’t get home for Christmas. You were only three, but…”

“I was little but I DO remember. And you always acted like you were okay with it. But then he’d leave and you’d be a wreck. Just like you were this time.”

“I wasn’t a wreck. I was nervous and I was worried and…”

“Mum, you don’t have to lie to me. I heard you crying. When you thought all of us were asleep. I KNOW you were having a bad time. With dad being gone.”

“You know what? You’re right. I was. Normally I’m okay with it; I can handle him going away as long as he stays out of harm's way. But knowing he’d walked into it? It DID bother me. That he’d been so willing to help out Anil. Especially after what happened the last time he went and got his hands dirty.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell him that? That you didn’t want him doing it? That you didn’t want him going away?”

“It’s not that easy, TJ. Sometimes it’s not my place. I can’t actually tell him what he can’t and can’t do. In the same way he can’t do that with me. And when Anil called and said he needed the help…”

“He should have said no. Anil knows tons of people. Why did he need dad? He could have called someone else.”

“Your dad is very good at what he does. Or what he DID do. One of the best. And I know it sounds strange; to be proud of a job like that. To be so willing to put your life on the line for people you don’t even know. But when Anil called and needed his help, your dad couldn’t exactly say no.”

“Yes, he could have,” TJ insists. “He promised. That he’d never go away again. That he’d never go back out there after the bad guys. He promised ALL of us. And totally broke that.”

“Sometimes it happens. Sometimes he can’t help it. Sometimes…”

“Stop making excuses for him. When one of us screws up, you don’t let us give you excuses. So why do you let dad give them? There’s no reason he had to go. At all. He should have told Anil to get someone else.”

“You know, we are going to have to agree to disagree on this. I said it was okay. If he went. There’s nothing more to talk about. So let’s just drop this, okay? You don’t know what’s talked about; between your dad and I. We keep you guys out of it. For reasons exactly like this.”

“You lied to dad. When you told him you were okay with it. You weren’t. You were far from okay. And I told him that. That you had a really hard time. That you didn’t deserve to go through that. It’s not fair, mummy. That he goes and does stuff like that. I don’t care that Anil needed. WE need him. Us kids. He’s our dad. What happens if he gets killed? Then we have no dad.”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to get killed.”

“He will if he keeps doing stupid shit like this. You should just be honest with him. Tell him how you really feel about him going away. ‘Cause if he thinks it’s okay, he’s going to keep doing it more and more. And then something really bad is going to happen. Worse than last time. And I don’t want that. I don’t want him going away and…” TJ’s voice cracks with emotion. “...I don’t want him going away and never coming home.”

“Tyler...hey…” she lays a hand on the side of his face “...it’s okay...just take a breath and…”

“It’s not okay. It’s never been okay. It’s never going to be okay. And if he goes away and something happens to him, I’ll hate him forever. If something bad happens to him and he never comes back, I’ll never forgive him. For doing that to us. For doing that to you.”

“Okay, I know you’re upset. And I love you so much for wanting to protect me. But right now, you just need to calm down and take it easy, alright? I know you’re going through a lot. I know puberty is starting to come and kick your ass and it’s making everything seem so much worse and…”

“Just tell him,” TJ implores, and noisily sniffles before wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Just tell him you don’t want him to go. Tell him, mummy. So he doesn’t think it’s okay to leave again. Because he’ll go and something horrible will happen. And then we don’t have a dad. And we’ll barely have a mum. ‘Cause it’ll kill you. If something goes wrong and he doesn’t come back.”

“You need to to just breathe, Baby-Man,” she steps in front of him and takes his face in her hands. “ Just breathe. Everything is alright. Daddy’s home and he’s safe and he’s not going anywhere. It was just this one time. He won’t have to do that again.”

“You need to tell him. That you don’t want him going. Please, mummy. Please tell him.”

“Okay,” she promises, and draws him into a hug. Heart aching at the realization that her arms can no longer completely wrap around him; shoulders and back both broad and strong. “Everything’s alright, TJ.” She lays a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder, the other rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him how I feel; about him going away. About how ALL of us feel. Alright?”

He nods.

“Why don’t you go and get some fresh air,” she suggests. “It will make you feel better.”

“You promise you’ll talk to him?”

“I promise.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, then holds him out at arms length. “Maybe afterwards we can take the littles for a walk? You know how much Takota loves when you pull him in the sled. It’ll be good; to go and get a bit of exercise. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You are getting so big. How do you grow up so fast? I remember finding out about you and your brother. I remember when you were born. All seven pounds of you. Now look. In a month's time, you WILL be taller than me. You’re already wearing mens size nine shoes. You’re TEN.”

“That’s what happens when your dad’s a giant, I guess.”

“You used to always call him that when you were little. You’d tell everyone that your dad was a giant. He probably seemed that way, huh? Probably seemed ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

“He still does. Well, maybe not the bullet proof part. We know THAT’S not true.”

“I know it bothers you. What happened back then. I know it’s not an easy thing to get over. That you came so close to losing him. And I’m sorry. That you had to go through all of that. I really am. If there was any way to go back and time and change it, I would. In a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

“I do, mummy.”

“Your dad loves you so much, TJ. You have no idea HOW much. When you were born and the doctor gave you to him? I’ve never seen him THAT emotional. Not even with Millie and she was his very first. After Austin. And he cried like a baby when he got to hold her. But you? I can’t even begin to describe what that was like for him. A son. After losing his first one. He was so happy and so in love with you. And that’s never changed. It never will.”

“I just don’t want to lose him. I don't know why he even takes the chance. Why does he go knowing that he might not come back? Doesn’t he love us enough to stay home?”

“Of course he does. And I WILL talk to him. Just cut him some slack, okay? The last five years haven’t been easy on him either. And he’s done so well. Better than anyone thought he would. But it’s a process; dealing with everything in his past and letting it go. So just give him a chance, alright? Can you do that? For me?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re such a good boy. I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you. And you ARE so much like your dad. And that’s a good thing.” She places one last kiss on his cheek and draws him into another hug. “A very good thing.”

******

The front door clicking open and a familiar Louisiana drawl calling out a greeting sets off a flurry of commotion; a mixture of both heavy and light footsteps pounding down the stairs, dogs scampering and barking, excited giggles and happy shrieks and rambling sentences in tiny voices. The kids have all become quite fond of Desmond (Desi, or Des, as Esme lovingly refers to him as) in their three years of spending time in New York City. A former University of Alabama football star, he’d found himself relocating when he’d met a very wealthy -and very much older- sports agent a decade ago; abandoning his dreams of playing profession in favour of a new existence in a new city. His husband -and admittedly the love of his life- had passed away just over a year ago. Leaving him with the elegantly and fabulously decorated brownstone in Gramercy, a small fleet of high end cars, closets full of designer apparel, and a bank account that will never run dry. He’s an enormous man; six foot seven and weighing close to three hundred pounds, most of solid muscle. Intimidating at first blush, but a complete teddy bear; compassionate and empathetic and possessing a heart even bigger than his body. And he’s hilarious and flamboyant; zero filter, exceptional taste in clothes, a love for expensive cosmetics and considerable talent in applying them, and a penchant for anything sparkly.

“You realize your front door was unlocked, don’t you?” Desi inquires as he journeys into the kitchen; monstrous hands curled around a giggling Takota’s ankles as he dangles him upside down. “Any wackadoodle could just walk in here. I know this is Gramercy Park, but it’s STILL The Big Apple. This isn’t the safe and quiet little sparrow fart town in Australia you call home. Where all you have to worry about is kangaroos and koalas and spiders the size of dinner plates.”

“I’ll have you know that koalas can be very sketchy; we have one in the tree in the front yard that hisses and spits and throws shit at you.”

“Jack!” Takota reminds her in between hiccups. “His name is Jack!”

“Well Jack is an asshole and he needs to relocate,” she says, and pats him on the bum and squeezes the cheeks; fingers moving to his sides and tickling him until both the giggles and the hiccups increase. “And it’s the dingos you have to worry about. They’re mean.”

“Dingos eat bad girls and boys,” Takota says, smoothing down his hair and his shirt when he’s put on his feet. “That’s what daddy said.”

“If that was true, we’d only have two or three kids instead of seven. Go and play. So I can talk to Desi.”

“Talk to him about what?”

“Top secret adult only stuff. Here," She snags one of the sugary goodies from the container on the island and hands it to him. “We’re going to go out soon. For a little walk. Get some fresh air. Make sure you pee BEFORE we leave. I don’t want to get you all bundled up and then have you tell me you gotta go. Hear me?”

“I can’t make any promises mumma,” Takota says, and then pops the treats into his mouth and rushes off.

“That kid is way too cute for his own good,” Desi declares. “Gonna be a heartbreaker, you know. Like his mom.”

“For the record, I’ve never broken any hearts. Well, except for the time in grade two when I didn’t want to be Freddie George’s Valentine. He just wasn’t my type; he smelled like tapioca and desperation.”

“You had a first husband, did you not? Must have broken his heart. Or you wouldn’t be on your second husband.”

“My first husband broke my jaw, my nose, more than one rib, and put me in the ICU. He’s lucky it’s only his heart that got ripped out. And what’s up with that hat?” She gestures towards the fedora atop her friend’s head. “You look like a pimp.”

“If I was a pimp, you, my little ho…” he plucks the hat from his head and places it upon hers. “...would be better dressed.”

“What is wrong with how I’m dressed? I dress like this all the time.”

“And you’re still married? Is he blind or did he hit his head too hard one too many times or…?”

“I’ll have you know, my husband doesn’t care about the packaging. Just what’s underneath. Case in point, I once bought this really nice and quite expensive baby doll nightie; totally vintage and gorgeous and this shimmering black and pink. I don’t think he even noticed. It took him like five seconds to get it off me. IF that. He does not give a shit about the wrapping paper. Just the gift that’s underneath.”

“And you, my cute, teeny little munchkin, are the gift that keeps on giving. And you must give VERY well. Seven kids and all. But baggy sweat pants and a huge tee and a way too big Quicksilver hoodie? Oh honey, no. Just no. No, no, nooo.”

“If it makes you feel any better, these sweats are Fendi.”

“That does NOT change the fact they are joggers and you should NOT be wearing joggers on the streets of New York City. You lived here before; has your little, beautiful brain forgotten what it’s like to dress here? We need to get you some retail therapy with old Desi. He’ll hook you up. A little refinement, a little sophistication, a little bling. I got you, girl.”

“Your idea of a little bling is a ten thousand dollar belt you tried to talk me into buying last year. Where would I wear a ten thousand dollar belt?”

“I don’t care if you use it in the bedroom. If your husband resorts to employing it to trap you to the headboard or if he uses it to tie your hands behind your back. That belt was spectacular and you deserve spectacular. We WILL do this; a shopping trip. Chanel, Gucci, maybe some Ralph Lauren if we feel like slumming.”

“Where am I going to wear that type of stuff? I can’t wear Gucci while I’m cleaning out the goat pen or Chanel when I’m gutting a chicken coup. And I certainly can’t wear it out shopping.”

“Not to your favourite haunt no. Definitely out of place in Target.”

“There is nothing wrong with shopping at Target.”

“There is so much wrong with it. I’ll be here all day if we start.”

“Besides, we don’t have high falutin places like Gucci where I live, remember? You’ve been there.”

“Charming little place. Reminds me of some of the towns down south I used to hit up. But girl, you fill that closet of yours with the finest of apparel. Stick with me, I’ll treat you right. And speaking of being treated right, I got the appointment for you; Christmas Eve Eve, two o’clock Sally Hershberger.”

“You are a knight in shiny, blingy armor. You really DO have strings to pull.”

“I may have had to promise some good times...sexy good times...to the receptionist. But, that’s a small price to pay for you. I’m willing to take one for the team. Or should I say, give one for the team.”

“And as much as it's a dream of mine to go to Sally, and seeing how my hair really DOES need some TLC…”

“Oh no. No. Hell no. There’s a but coming. And Desmond Brownell does not like buts. Unless it’s Idris Elba’s. And your husband’s.”

“I don’t know if I can go through with it. Not the appointment; I can go through with THAT. But cutting my hair? As short as the picture I showed you?”

“Girl, are you crazy. You’d be a knockout with a cute little side swept bob. What drugs are you on? Not that you’re ugly or anything the way you are now. I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers or anything like that. But your hair...your whole mom thing with the constant ponytails or messy buns...it needs help. It’s screaming for help. Let me help it. Let me help YOU.”

“Just cutting it? THAT short. That’s not going to go over well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tyler is kind of old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned? You two spent five days banging right after you met. You got knocked up out of wedlock. He proposed in the bathroom. Nothing old fashioned about any of that.”

“When it comes to certain things, he’s very...particular. Especially when it comes to my hair. He likes it long. LOVES it long. I cut it up to my shoulders once and he bitched about it for TWO years. And let’s not get into when I got bangs or when I dyed it blonde.”

“I can’t say I blame him for the bangs thing. You’re way too cute and those big brown eyes do not deserve the attention taken away by fringe. But the bob...girl...that’s fierce. You’d rock it.”

“Maybe just some highlights. Some red ones. He did really like when I colored my hair red. I can get those, a trim, a blow out.”

“You can go to Cheapy Haircuts for Us for that nonsense. This is Sally Hershberger. You are not going to her and getting just a blowout or a trim or highlights. You are going big, or going home. The husband will deal. He’d love you with no hair. It’s no secret he thinks the sun shines out of your ass. Which, I have to admit, looks fabulous in Fendi sweats.”

“Why do you think he bought them? He knows what he’s doing. He bought them for the same reason he buys me yoga pants. And I don’t even do yoga.”

“He’s an ass man. I can appreciate that. And speaking of appreciate. Desmond Brownell would like to do some appreciating right about now. Is he home? The better half? Is he in there working out?” He casts a glance towards the home gym that sits off the kitchen. “More importantly, is he in there working out shirtless? ‘Cause if he is, I’ll gladly take him a glass of water so that fine ass specimen doesn’t get parched or dehydrated. I’ll even rub down those sore, beautiful muscles. I’ve got some very top shelf massage oil at home. Smells like pecan and coconut. Unless he’s more a citrusy type. If so, I can run to the store right quick.”

“First off, you’d traumatize him. He’s as straight as they come. I know that breaks your heart to hear it, but…”

“How does he know he’s straight if he’s never ventured out of straight-hood? Unless he has and didn’t like it….”

“He hasn’t tried it. He likes women. LOVES them actually. Maybe a little too much when he was younger. He is NOT bi. Sorry.”

“But I am. So are you. And you’re damn cute and he’d probably give it a try if you talked him into a threesome.”

“Yeah, right,” Esme laughs. “That would never happen.”

“Do right by your best friend. Or are you worried he’d leave you for me? What’s the old saying? Once you go black you never…”

“My husband is straight. Very straight. And no. He’s not working out. He’s not even home. He’s out with Tanner.”

“The breakfast date, that’s right. Little T couldn’t stop talking about that. Loves his daddy, that’s for sure. You know, that kid is damn talented. Those goodies brought over and that soup? Damnnn. Move over Emeril. Little T gonna set the world on fire.”

“He’s something else that kid. He’s...incredible. There aren’t even words that can properly describe him. But, he IS having issues.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“He’s bored. At school. And we specifically sent him there to challenge him. It’s been great. He’s been thriving and his grades are amazing and the teachers and the kids love him. But he’s so advanced and so smart that they’re going to run out of ways to teach him. Which means we’re going to run out of options for him. Which also means, I’m going to become a heavy drinker and eat my weight in these!” She nods down at the container of sweets in front of her and pops one into her mouth. “What are we going to do? There’s only so many options where we are.”

“Homeschool? You’ve got a degree. You’re smart. You can do it.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got a business. Two businesses, actually. And six other kids. Besides, he is way smarter than I was at that age. He’s probably smarter than I am. What am I going to do? For him?”

“You know where there ARE a lot of options…”

“We are NOT moving here. Tyler would never survive. This place? New York City? It’s not him. And I have to think about that too. What’s also best for him. We’re happy where we are. Insanely happy. Moving here is not an option. No matter how much I miss you.”

“Guess you’ve got a lot of thinking and research to do. It’ll work out. Always does.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love your optimism? And how much I’ve missed you? Or how much I love you?"

“You can mention it as many times as you like. My ego likes that shit.” He takes her face in his hands and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We still on for dinner tonight? I’m still bringing Italian? And the wine?”

“We’re still on. Tanner is going to make the salad and the garlic bread.”

“We gon’ be eating like damn kings.”

“Are we still on for the other thing? You know; the thing we talked about? When Tyler and I take the kids to pick out a tree?”

“I got you, don’t you worry. I will let myself in and grab the stuff from the attic and sneak out. I also got the email; that ‘thing’ for Addie arrived. You know what I’m talking about?”

“The doll? I didn’t think it would arrive in time. How does it look?”

“Exactly like her. Now, you want to get a head start on the wrapping? You know I love me some gift wrapping.”

“You can do whatever your little heart desires.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “That is what I like to hear. Now, I’m going to the gym. There’s a Latino hottie there I’ve been trying to talk up for weeks. You behave. Stay out of the wine. At least until later.”

“You gonna wear your ‘Bama t-shirt? The one that’s two sizes too small and shows off your muscles?”

“Sweetie pie, you don’ read my mind. But have you been checking out my muscles?”

“I have a ‘thing’ for muscles. And yours are very nice. Besides, I’m married. Not dead. Tyler’s going to be upset. That he’s not the only one you’re crushing on.”

“You just put his little mind at ease. Tell him he gives me the biggest woodie out of them all.”

“That’ll stroke his ego for sure. See you later? Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be here. With bells and bling on.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks and pulls her into a hug; tightly squeezing. “You’re just so wee and cute. I could just scoop you up and put you in my pocket. See you later, gator.” He removes the hat from her head, affectionately tousles her hair before heading out of the kitchen. “And do me a favour? Put proper clothes on for dinner. I can’t be dining with someone in sweats. Desmond Brownell has standards to uphold.”

“Desmond Brownwell needs to remember the cherry cheesecake for dessert.”

“Oh bless your heart. Thinking I need to be reminded. See ya, pip squeak.”

“You and you tall people. So cruel to us little folk.”

“Little folk?” He smirks. “You’re like one of those things in Lord of the Rings. A damn hobbit. Matter of fact, I’mma call you Frodo from now on.”

“You do that, I’ll sneak into your house and kill you in your sleep.”

Desmond laughs. “I’d like to see you try, short stuff. Later.”

“Later,” she calls, shaking her head and laughing when he hollers “Spawns of Satan; I be leaving now!” before stepping out the front door.


	7. Subway Trolls and Pancakes

They stop at the closest bodega for a cup of take out coffee and a carton of chocolate milk, then hand in hand navigate the snowy sidewalks on their brief jaunt to the subway. Tanner is excited about their morning out. Words rapidly leaving his lips as all his pent up thoughts come spilling out; sentences running together and often making little to no sense as several different topics messily mix together. But Tyler lets him get it out. Tanner often very quiet and shy and finding himself lost in the chaos of their home; unable to get a word in edgewise at times and then finding himself growing more and more frustrated. It always leads to a meltdown; tears and screaming hyperventilating and sometimes even the odd destructive episode. The latter hasn’t happened in a long time; both his parents and Tanner himself recognizing the triggers and the warning signs and able to calm him down before things escalate that far. It’s been a journey to say the least; learning how to both handle and help a kid like Tanner. Specialists and fellow parents of children with Autism and autistic adults themselves have been extremely helpful; they’ve found the strategies that aid him the best and in turn, help him thrive. Music therapy and appointments disguised as play, sensory items that provide him with the ‘break’ that he needs when overwhelmed, deep pressure applied with hugs and weighted blankets and vests. It’s a whole new world that has been both overwhelming and rewarding. Tanner isn’t the only one that’s being helped. It’s an adjustment for the entire family and everyone has had to make changes and sacrifices. But it’s also been a positive thing. What could have broken a marriage has actually made it stronger; working as a team and discovering just how strong and determined the other is and witnessing what lengths they’ll go to help their family thrive under even the most difficult of circumstances.

Tanner is a gift. An extra special one. In a way that his siblings aren’t. He’s opened their eyes to an entirely different existence, bringing out the depths of their patience and compassion. He’s beautiful and intelligent; the depths of his knowledge and information stored away inside that little brain simply profound. And talented; cooking and baking, drawing, playing the guitar and singing. But he DOES struggle. Anything social is a challenge for him; extreme difficulty in making friends, becoming extremely shy and withdrawn and even scared if a stranger approaches him for even the smallest of chit chat. And his fears and triggers are numerous; thunderstorms, needles, too much noise and conversation going on around him at once, the sudden and sharp clattering of dishes, the seams inside clothes. Things that most people would never even notice, are extremely heightened for him. And while most are easily recognized and identifiable and the entire family goes out of their way to accommodate him when possible, new issues seem to arise every day.

But the subway is one of his favourite places. The dark tunnels don’t faze him, nor does the crowd of people during the more busy times. And when the noises become too much he knows to simply put on a pair of sounds cancelling headphones and then concentrate on something else; whether it be a book he’s brought along of a sketch pad or even games and videos on one of his parents’ phones. 

This morning he’s in his glory; kneeling on the seat beside Tyler, nose pressed against the window as he stares out into the darkness. The subway is quiet; people choosing to stay in after the snowstorm or already flooding earlier trains in hopes of beating the masses that will flock to malls and boutiques to complete their Christmas shopping. While extremely advanced intellectually speaking, he’s a lot younger in other ways; social skills and emotional maturity putting him around the level of a five or six year old. The difference is most apparent when he’s with his twin; TJ becoming older and wiser with each passing day while Tanner struggles to get to the level at Declan -or even Brooklyn and Takota- functions at. And he’s much smaller than his older brother as well; gifted with his mother’s height and slender body and some of her petite features. But there’s never any problem recognizing the Rake in him. The facial expressions and mannerisms and that Australian accent that he’s developed; much thicker and stronger than any of his siblings.

“Dad?” Tanner pipes up from beside him, one hand tightly gripping the top of the seat while the other keeps a firm hold on his chocolate milk; stomach pressed against the back of the seat, his father’s arm wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the subway trolls are real? Do you think they exist?”

“Subway trolls??”

“Remember the subway trolls? TJ talked about them during the summer. When we came here to visit Ovi. About how there’s trolls living down here. Do you think it’s true? Do you think there’s really trolls down here?”

“Something tells me that’s something your brother made up: to freak Takota out. He had nightmares for three weeks after that.”

“Everytime we come on the subway, I try looking for trolls. But it’s dark and the train is fast and I can’t really see ANYTHING. But it could be true, yeah? There really could be trolls. They could exist.”

“Trolls aren’t real. It’s just something that people made up. A long time ago. They just exist in movies and books. Like in The Lord of The Rings.”

A look of visible disgust appears on Tanner’s face. “Those are Orcs. NOT trolls.”

“Same thing.”

“No, dad. They’re not. You need to read the books again. Orcs and trolls are NOT the same. I mean, they’ve evil, but orcs aren’t much stronger than humans. Trolls have superhuman strength. Plus, they’re HUGE. Orcs are just the size of normal people. Even mummy knows this stuff.”

“That’s because mummy is a nerd.”

“She’s not a nerd! She’s very smart. In a lot of different things. She even speaks three languages. You only speak one.”

“I speak two. English and profanity.”

“Swearing is NOT a language.”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s an art form.”

“You do have A LOT of swears in your vocabulary. It’s pretty impressive; that you know that many bad words. You know twenty different ways to say the F word. That’s cool. You’re smart in your way and mumma is smart in hers. Is that why you fell in love with her? ‘Cause of how smart she is?”

“It was one of the reasons.”

“I wanna meet a girl one day. Like mum. Mum is super cute and tiny and really funny. She makes me laugh a lot. And she’s got a really nice, kind smile and pretty eyes.”

“Yeah, she does. She’s pretty special, huh?”

“She is,” Tanner smiles.. “You’re a lucky guy, daddy. She loves you a whole bunch. I see it in her eyes, you know. They get all sparkly and shiny when she sees you. Like yesterday when you got home. As soon as you got out of the cab, her entire face changed. Her cheeks got rosy and she had a huge smile and her eyes were shiny. Like she was going to cry but not crying eyes at the same time. I want to meet a girl like mummy. Then I’d be lucky too.”

“You would,” Tyler agrees. “You’d be the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

“I’ll ask mummy about the trolls. When we get home. She might know. She lived here before. Maybe she’s seen one. That would be so freaking awesome.”

“Something tells me that mummy hasn’t seen a subway troll. Something also tells me they don’t exist.”

“Why you say that?”

“Have you ever seen one? I’ve never seen one.”

“Just because we don’t see things, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I haven’t seen a lot of things, but I know they’re real.”

“That’s a very good point, actually.”

A sudden pout appears on Tanner’s face; entire body stiffening. “I don’t like this part of the ride. It gets really noisy and extra dark here. Can I sit on your lap now? You make me feel safe.”

Nodding, he places the backpack sitting on his lap between his feet. It contains everything the ten year old could need during the time out; headphones, weighted lap pad, various fidget items, an extra sweater that’s a size too small but Tanner enjoys wearing because it’s ‘tight and feels like a hug’. Scooping his son off the seat next to him and settles him on his thighs; Tanner wrapping both arms around his neck and sliding his body forward in order to have that comfort of body against body. And he slips his hand up the back of the little one’s jacket, hoodie, and t-shirt; giving him that press of a warm, soothing palm against his bare skin. 

“I don’t like this part, daddy,” Tanner whimpers, and tightens the hold on his dad’s neck. “It’s scary.”

“It’s okay, mate. I got you. You’re fine. Close your eyes; I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

“Alright,” he squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can. “I trust you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

“I know you won’t. But it’s still scary.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” Tyler assures him, and presses his lips to his temple; the end of his nose resting against the side of Tanner’s head as he speaks to him in a low, quiet voice. “Nothing can hurt you. Ever.”

“Not when you’re here. You won’t let anything hurt me.”

“Anything or anyone. You’re alright, mate. Just breathe. It’s almost over. Just a couple more minutes. Why don’t you tell me about some of your dreams? The ones you were writing about? Tell me some of them and I’ll read the rest. I want to hear about them.”

“Okay,” Tanner takes a deep, shaky breath, but keeps his eyes screwed shut as he launches into a recap of one of his many dreams. 

Tyler’s not sure how many of these dreams are actually real; they’re vivid and often far beyond Tanner’s level of maturity. And he often wonders if it’s just tales the ten year old has conjured up in his own mind; a very detailed and colourful imagination that is often underused AND under appreciated. But he never questions their validity or ‘tunes out’ when his son is sharing his stories; letting him indulge in that little fantasy world of his where things probably seem a lot easier to handle and cope with. And it gives Tanner a sense of confidence and pride in himself; knowing how well he can both tell a tale and how well received it is by the one person he’s always so eager to please and make proud of him.

Today the dreams are about dragons and sea life. Two very distinct ‘dreams’; the first consisting of Tanner being the brave and noble knight that saves the princess and an entire kingdom from an untimely demise. The second he’s an underwater explorer; making friends with all the marine creatures and building a completely self-sustaining and livable underwater habitat for both humans and sea life. And he sees the way people around them react to both Tanner’s story telling and the gentle and calm way Tyler deals with him; the smiles and the comments about how ‘cute it is’ and even the praises of ‘it’s nice to see a daddy out with the little ones’.

“Is it done yet?” Tanner inquires, as the last of his final tale leaves his lips. “Are we past the scary part?”

“Yup. All done.”

“Good,” he heaves a sigh of relief. “But can I still stay here? Can I still stay on your lap?”

“You can stay there as long as you want, Nug.”

“I love you daddy. Thank you.”

“No worries, mate. I love you too.” He removes the hand from underneath Tanner’s clothing and briefly lays it on the back of his head; placing a kiss to his cheek before wrapping his arm around his waist. Even THAT’s been a learning process; expressing emotion and talking about feelings and showing affection. He’d grown up not being allowed to do any of those things; his father only beating him more savagely if he cried or begged for him to stop or if he cried over the loss of his mother. Meeting and marrying someone that craves both giving and receiving affection had been a real eye opener; showing him just how badly the old man had screwed him up both physically and mentally.

“Nug?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something.”

“About what?”

“Mummy.”

“I don’t know what she wants for Christmas. She says ‘nothing’ EVERY year.”

“I already got that all figured out. This is about something else.”

“Okay. What is the something else?”

“When I was gone, did mummy seem sad?”

“Mummy is always sad when you go away. She misses you.”

“But did she seem extra sad, maybe? Did it seem like she was having a hard time with me being gone? A harder time than usual?”

“Maybe a little. I mean, she was really sad. She did cry a few times. And locked herself in the pantry once. But that’s ‘cause Millie was being mean and driving her nuts. I pushed tissues under the door; so mummy could wipe her face and blow her nose. We all get snotty when we cry.”

“I’m glad you help mommy out. Especially when she’s sad. You’ve always been good at that; helping take care of her. What about at night? Anything go on at night? Maybe you were supposed to be sleeping and you heard some things? Maybe mummy really upset and crying hard extra hard or…?”

“I snuggled with her a couple nights. On the couch. Because she said she said she couldn’t sleep and that she was feeling lonely. I went down to get a snack. I know I shouldn’t have; that I’m not allowed downstairs by myself in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, daddy. I was hungry though and mummy wasn’t in your room and I went looking for her. She was eating ice cream out of the container and watching Sex and the City. Are you mad? That I went downstairs by myself?”

“No, mate. I’m not. You went looking for mum, right?”

“Yeah, because I was hungry and I knew she would make me a snack. She always makes me an English muffin. Toasted. With a piece of cheese and two slices of tomato on it. With pepper sprinkled on top. And when I couldn’t find her upstairs, I got worried. So I went looking for her. We had snacks and she let me have some ice cream and then we snuggled on the couch watching Sponge Bob. I stayed up until she fell asleep, and then I went and got the big blanket of your bed and your pillow and took them downstairs and tucked mommy in. Then I went back to bed. Once I knew she was really fast asleep and comfortable. I gave her a goodnight kiss. Three, actually. Two on the lips, one of the forehead. Like you do. You always kiss her on the forehead.”

“You are a good son, Nug. A great son. That loves his mumma very much.”

“She’s the best mummy in the whole world. If I could pick mummies, I’d pick her above everyone else. Because she loves me no matter what. She doesn’t care that I’m different. That my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. She just loves me. No questions asked. Just like I love her no matter what. Even when she gets mad and yells. But I don’t like when she cries. It makes my heart hurt.”

“Was she crying a lot? While I was gone? More than she’s ever cried before?”

“I guess. TJ and I could hear her the first couple of nights. Crying in the bedroom. We were going to see if she was okay, but we didn’t want to get in trouble. Takota and Brookie went in though and slept with her. She seemed okay in the morning. She likes when we come in to cuddle. She doesn’t like the big bed all to herself.”

“Did she say anything to you? About me being gone?”

“Not to me. But I heard her talking to Desi. He came over every night to check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. I heard her saying how worried she was about you. That she was scared something would happen and she’d never see you again. That she’d already almost lost you twice before and that she couldn’t take it a third time. Desi tried to talk her down; told her everything would be okay and that you’d be home before she knew it.”

“That was it? The whole thing you heard?”

“Most of it. She also said that she’s never loved anyone the way that she loves you. That you couldn’t ever possibly understand how much she does. That you saved her. In every way someone can be saved.”

“She said that?”

Tanner nods, then reaches inside Tyler’s jacket and pulls out the wool beanie he’d put in one of the pockets for safe keeping. “Will you help me when my glasses fog up?” he asks, and he yanks the hat down onto his head. “They always fog up when we go out in the cold.”

“I will help you.”

“And over the really high snowbanks?”

“I’m going to toss you in those. Have to call someone to dig you out.”

“Daddy…” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at him pointedly. “...that’s not very nice.”

“I would never do that to you. TJ, yeah. You? Never.”

“You know…” Tanner scrambles off his lap as the train begins its final approach to their station, then curls all of his fingers around three of his father’s “...if I got to pick daddies, I’d pick you.”

Tyler smiles down at his son. “You would, would you?”

Tanner nods. “In a heartbeat.”

*****

Breakfast is a success. A small diner in Battery Park that Tanner had found online three years ago; spending hours online searching for the best pancake spots in New York City and reading all of the reviews and browsing all the menus. He’s very detail oriented. Choosing places to eat and shop on not just popularity and the items being offered, but on the way the food appears in pictures; a keen eye for attractive colour palettes and neat and tidy -and appealing- presentation. He’d put so much research and time into it that Tyler hadn’t had the heart to tell him that maybe somewhere closer to home would be a better fit; no ‘scary’ trips on the subway meant less crowds and noise and almost assured no sensory meltdowns which in turn, would mean an extremely hard day for Tanner. Once something is ‘set off’, he remains on edge and anxious for hours; the mere stress of his brain going into overload causing him to be destructive and aggressive. The latter is always directed at himself; yanking his hair out, banging his head off walls, scratching himself until he bleeds. And while it’s always a worry that something will spark the behaviour, they’ve become better at recognizing the warning signs; identifying triggers and able to remove him from a situation before it becomes too much for him to bear.

The morning had gone well. Tanner had been talkative and cheerful; uncharacteristically engaging with the waitress and carrying on conversations -albeit brief, as too much chatter and eye contact make him extremely uncomfortable- with fellow diners. He’d only had difficulties twice. Needing his weighted lap pad and some fidget toys when the wait for food was longer than expected, and a flight to his father’s lap when a larger group of diners came in and their voices were needlessly loud and obnoxious. A tight as possible embrace and encouraging and comforting words whispered had quickly soothed him, but he’d still insisted on staying perched on his dad’s thighs while he finished the remains of his breakfast.

After a quick trip to the Cartier store -a little something for mummy as a form of both apology and an excuse to spoil her- and to pick up some novels to read at Tanner’s favourite used book store, they returned home and onto the final ‘event’ of the morning; time spent at the private park. It’s cold and the wind brutal, but Tanner is in his element; loving the way he can ‘crash’ into the snowbank at the bottom of the slide, tend to building his own snowman without interference from his well meaning but way too hyper younger siblings, and time on the swings. And while he has two of his own hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom, he prefers being outside; leaning as far back as he can and staring up at the sky. It’s gray and dreary today, but he’s in his glory; catching snowflakes on his tongue and giggling the entire time. 

That laugh -one he’d inherited from his mother- is more than enough to tolerate the frigid temperatures; a hot cup of coffee and the hat and gloves Esme had both nagged him about taking along -and had resorted to shoving into the pockets of his coat before he stepped out the door- enough to stave off the chill. And he’s leaning back against the wrought iron fence and sipping the strong brew -two shots of espresso helping to fight off the lingering exhaustion from jet lag- when the gate to the park swings open. It’s a highly controlled and private area. Only those who live in Gramercy Park have access; given keys when they take up residence. And while he isn’t necessarily worried about the stranger joining them, that old inkling of hyper-vigilance never fails to make an appearance when he spots an unfamiliar face. It’s the years spent on the job; burning bridges and stepping on toes and making a lot of enemies along the way. Revenge is par for the course; dirtbags sticking up for other dirtbags and seeking vengeance for fellow drug lords, rapists, murders, child predators. The list is vast and seemingly endless; he’s gone up against the lowest of the low and somehow lived to tell about. 

The worry is always there; that someone will come looking for him and then use his greatest weaknesses to destroy him. It’s why he’s extra careful now; willing to do anything in his power to keep his family safe. Five years ago had been bad enough; if word got back to the wrong people that it was his business employing the mercenaries sent to clean up messes, the result wouldn’t be pretty. Far more devastating and widespread than what happened at the hands of Mahajan and Asif’s remaining people. And while he highly doubts that the woman and child stepping through the gate pose a threat, his brain immediately tends to think of the worst. Especially when one of his children -arguably the most vulnerable of them all- is with him. But he manages a polite smile in the woman’s direction, then shuffles his weight from foot to foot when she approaches; an attempt to keep warm and his discomfort at the idea of having to be social. It was one of the things that sold on him buying the brownstone; no one bothered with him and likewise didn’t seem to give a shit that he mostly stuck to himself.

“It’s amazing how they can stand being out like this,” she comments, as she sidles up next to him. 

It’s way too close his own comfort; the sleeve of her fur lined coat brushing against him. He sidesteps; putting just enough space between them to let her know she’s invading his space, yet enough to come across a complete asshole. She’s new to the area; a face he hadn’t seen last Christmas or during the month they’d spent in the Big Apple over the past summer. Tall and slender; shoulder length blond hair sticking the bottom of the black and gray knit beanie and too much make up on her face. 

“My daughter LOVES the snow,” she continues, nodding in the direction of the little girl attempting to make conversation with Tanner. It can go either of three ways; Tanner acknowledging her presence and actually speaking in return, completely ignoring her and acting as if she doesn’t even exist, or he’ll be so anxious that he’ll flee to his father’s side for comfort. “It’s why she took moving here so well; used to the weather in Utah I guess. I’m Natalie,” she offered a slender hand encased in a lambskin glove.

“Tyler. You just moved here?”

“Couple weeks ago. Took a job with Goldman Sachs. I’ve always wanted to live here, mind you. A dream going back to my childhood; Central Park, Broadway shoes, shopping at Bergdorfs. A lot of stuff on my to do list. Your accent; you’re a long way from home.”

“Our second place is here. Kids love coming to stay. Especially during the winter. They love having a white Christmas.”

“Must be a change. Going from somewhere hot and sunny to this. Why go from the ocean and the sand to snow and slush? And most of all, why New York City?”

“My wife spent some time here. Fell in love with it. Always wanted to get back. And our oldest lives here. In Queens. He’s in his first year of med school.”

“You have a kid old enough to have done four years of undergrad and is now in med school?”

Tyler nods. There’s no need for specifics. No reason to tell a complete stranger about Ovi and his background and how he’d wound up going from Mumbai to Colorado and then onto Australia. That part of their lives is firmly rooted in the past; Dhaka, Asif, Mahajan Senior. And it’s not something either of them enjoy revisiting. The years have gone by excruciatingly slow; leaving mountains of mental and physical issues behind. “I’ve got grandkids too.”

“Seriously?”

“Two of them. Boy and a girl. Three and eight months.”

“You’re a grandpa?”

“As much as I hate being called that, yeah. I am.”

“Makes you feel old? Being called that?”

“Just thinking about it makes me feel old.” He takes a swig of coffee; watching as Tanner abandons his snowman and his new playmate in favour of returning to the swings. The ten year old is doing better than expected; not growing agitated or anxious when the little girl immediately follows him and once more attempts to make conversation. 

“How old is he?”

“Ten. Eleven next month.”

“He’s shy. Or he’s already playing hard to get when it comes to girls.”

“He has Autism. Aspergers. It’s one of the things he struggles with; making friends.”

“I’m sorry, it must be hard. It must be…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I mean, look at him. He’s healthy. He’s happy for the most part. He’s beautiful. He’s a good kid. A REALLY good kid. We’re lucky to have him.”

“And are those your only two? The med student and him? Quite the age gap.”

“Actually, I have six more at home.”

Natalie’s eyes widen. “You have eight kids?”

“I do. Well, technically the oldest one isn’t mine. Not by blood. We took him in when he was fifteen. But I do have six more at home.”

“All biological?”

Tyler nods.

“All with the same mother?”

“Every last one of them.”

“I don’t know whether you’re crazy or brave. Or a mix of both.”

“Guess that’s up for debate. It’s a pretty full house.”

“God help the woman who got pregnant SEVEN times.”

“It was actually only five times. We have two sets of twins. Ten and five.”

“Wow,” Natalie laughs. “That’s quite the brood. You don’t see that very often these days; big families like that.”

“Once we started, we couldn’t stop I guess. We were supposed to be done at four, but…”

“Things happened.”

“That’s one way of putting it. You said you just moved here?”

“Number thirty-three. You?”

“Eleven.”

“The one right on the corner? With the two dogs? A shepherd and a…”

“Australian shepherd. Mac and Saju. Two major pains in the ass.”

“They love to stand on the couch. Look out the front window. My daughter always waves to them. She keeps hoping one day they’ll be outside. So she can meet them.”

“They’re standing on the couch because they like to spy on the neighbours. And growl and bark at the squirrels. They’re used to koalas and kangaroos. Not squirrels. They’re not the brightest, but they’re loyal.”

“I walked by the other day and when I saw all the kids out front, I thought it might be a daycare. That was a nanny with them? Cute little thing with dark hair. Didn’t look old enough to be their mom.”

“That IS their mom,” he confirms. “My wife is very tiny and cute. And I agree; she does NOT look old enough to have that many kids.”

“It would be nice to meet some of the other families around here. There aren't many with young kids, so it was a relief to see people at the park. My daughter’s always looking for new friends.”

“Well, she’s got a lot to choose from at our house, that’s for sure. I don’t think the wife would mind if you popped by. She’s the social butterfly. Complete opposite of me.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be holding your own in this conversation. A little gruff at times and straight to the point, but…”

“This is me on my best behaviour. It doesn’t get any better.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think it’s perfectly fine how it is.”

Smirking, he downs the remains of his coffee and tosses it in the nearby trash. It’s a line that’s been crossed. Not appreciating little smiles and flirtatious comments and the insistent way she keeps stepping even closer to him; not realizing that he grows more agitated and uncomfortable each time he moves away. It’s annoying; unwanted attention even AFTER you’ve told someone that you’re married. Most women -and some men- seem to take it as a challenge; an extra thrilling chase to land someone that’s declared themselves unavailable. And maybe it’s worked for them before; landing a guy that claims to be happily married and getting him to abandon all his morals and betray the one person he’s supposed to love more than life itself. But that sure as hell ISN’T him. He doesn’t need or want anyone else. Perfectly content to spend the rest of his existence with just one person; happy to wake up to the same face every day, kiss the same lips and make love to the same body , and hear the same voice and laugh. 

“Daddy!” Tanner calls as he bounds through the snow; wrapping both arms around one of Tyler’s thighs. “Can we go now? I’m getting cold. And I miss mum.”

“Yeah, we can go. I bet she misses you too.”

“Hey there, cutie.” Natalie smiles, and crouches down to the little boy’s level. 

“No,” Tanner shakes his head and slides behind Tyler, hiding himself behind his father’s legs. “Please don’t.”

“He doesn’t like eye contact. Not with people he doesn’t know. Scares him. It’s okay, Nug.” Reaching behind his body, he lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and gently pushes; encouraging him to come out of hiding. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen. Just people trying to meet you. Wanting to be friends.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Just someone being nice. Can you come on out? At least say hi? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on…” he lifts one leg, allowing Tanner to slip between them. “...can you just say hi? I won’t ask for more than that.”

Tanner nods, both arms once more wrapping around his father’s thigh; body leaning into him, needing that comfort and support. “Hi.”

"I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Natalie says. “Just trying to make friends. What’s your name?”

Tanner glances up at his dad. Looking for reassurance. And permission. 

“It’s okay. You can tell her.”

He looks back at the woman in front of him. “Tanner.”

“How old are you?”

“Ten. Almost eleven.”

“I hear you have a lot of brothers and sisters.”

He nods. “I have a twin. He’s older than I am. His name’s Tyler. Like daddy.”

“And is he as handsome? As you and daddy?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He’s really tall. And strong. Like daddy. He’s almost taller than mummy already!”

“Well your mum’s pretty tiny,” Tyler reasons, and straightens out Tanner’s scarf and hat; pulling the beanie down over the tops of his ears. “Speaking of mum, want to go see her?”

“Yeah,” Tanner nods enthusiastically. “I wanna see her. I miss her. I want to give her a hug. And her goodies. We got mum her favourites,” he addresses Natalie. “Mummy loves croissants. From a certain place. So daddy and I took the subway to get them. And he got her something really nice. From a really expensive jewellery store. There was lots of sparkly stuff in there. Mummy likes sparkly stuff but never lets daddy buy her any. She says he spoils her too much.”

Natalie smiles. I’m sure your mom deserves to be spoiled.”

“Oh, she definitely does. She’s the best mummy. And the prettiest. She puts up with a lot. Especially from Millie. That’s my oldest sister. She’s a bitch.”

Tyler frowns. “Tanner….”

“I’m just sayin’. Millie is really mean. She’s almost a teenager. That’s why. They get mean at that age. Girls. That’s what daddy says.”

“And on that note,” Tyler chuckles. “I think we should go home. You’re gonna wanna pee soon, aren’t ya.”

“Yeah. And you can’t drop your pants and go in the bushes here. Wayyyy too cold. I got snow in my boot. My sock is wet. I can’t walk in wet socks.”

“You could if you wanted to. It’s like a hundred feet away.”

“Naw. I don’t like it. The feeling. My foot is cold. And wet. My sock is too squishy.”

“You’re demanding.” Scooping Tanner up with one hand, he settles him on his hip, then reaches for the bags he’d hung earlier on the rungs of the fence. “Ready to go? Go and see and mummy?”

“Ready, Freddy. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“You’re ALWAYS hungry. Giants eat a lot. Bye” ! Tanner waves a mitten in farewell in Natalie’s direction. “I like your hat, by the way. I like the panda bear pin on it. It’s sparkly. And I like panda bears.”

“Well, I like your glasses. You’re awful cute, you know that.”

“Cute like daddy, smart like mummy,” Tanner declares, as he curls an arm around his dad’s neck. “Bye new friend!”

“Bye, kiddo. You be good. Although something tells me you always are.”

Tanner giggles. “You’ll change your mind once you get to know me. I can be really annoying.”

“Something tells me you’re more cute than annoying.”

“Just you wait,” he singsongs, and then gives one final wave before being carried out the gate.


	8. Conversations

“Do I have news for you.”

Smiling at the sound of her sister’s voice, Esme sinks down into one of the wicker chairs in the four season sunroom. Cordless phone tucked between shoulder and ear as she reaches for the mug of hot chocolate and Bailey’s that sits on the floor. The last five years having Riley so close has been exactly what her mental health has needed; a loved one that both returns the sentiment and acts as not only a sibling, but a best friend and true confidant. While it’s incredible to have a spouse that serves as all of those things and then some, there’s times when you need someone outside of the sanctity of marriage to turn to. Someone you can not only laugh and have fun with, but who gives you a shoulder to cry on and a non judgemental ear that listens. Love is amazing; finding that one person that you simply can’t live without and you want to grow old and gray with. But there ARE times where they test the limits of your sanity and your patience and you need someone to bitch and moan to; sympathizing but also dishing up some tough love and making you realize just how damn lucky you are. After years of being hounded by controlling and manipulative family members hell bent on destroying her marriage, it’s been refreshing to have someone around that exactly supports her. 

Cupping the mug in both hands, she blows a steady stream of cool air onto the steaming hot beverage, then stretches out her legs, placing her socked feet on the window in front of her. “You and Shaena are finally getting your shit together and taking the leap?”

“Did you fall and bang your head? Slip on some ice and get brain damage? How many times do I have to tell you? No wedding bells. Not now, not ever. We are perfect content being the ‘happily unmarried couple’.”

“It’s not like getting married will change that. If you’re happy now, you’re still going to be happy if you put a ring on it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that. Look at me; I swore I’d never, ever get married again. I thought Mark totally ruined all men for me. I would have been more than happy to just go for the ladies for the rest of my life. I even told myself ‘once was enough’ and ‘there’s no man in the world who could ever change my mind’. Whelp, it was my twelfth wedding anniversary in November.”

“May I remind you that you’re one of the lucky ones. You found a diamond in the rough. In the VERY rough. Not everyone gets that, MeMe. Not everyone finds THAT kind of person. You two are like some cheesy ass movie; a love that everyone wishes they could find but seldom do.”

“And you ask me if I’ve banged my head? You’re talking like YOU'VE got a brain injury. A ‘love that everyone wishes they could find but seldom do’? What the fuck is that? What kind of drugs are you on?”

“You can’t tell me that you and Tyler don’t have something special. Some kind of bond that other mere mortals don’t.”

“I don’t see other mere mortals sticking their fingers in someone’s neck to keep them alive on a bridge in Bangladesh. I think it’s pretty easy to understand why we DO have that kind of bond. The shit we’ve been through? It would be hard NOT to have a bond.”

“You guys started out pretty much at the bottom. You saw each other at your worst from practically the first day. Yet you still wanted to be together. I don’t know, that’s some pretty epic shit. And let’s face it. He IS a diamond in the rough. Big and scary and covered in tattoos and scars yet a complete and utter teddy bear? Total diamond.”

“And you’re saying Shaena isn’t? That she isn’t a diamond in her own way?”

“Oh, she’s a whole treasure chest of them. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? You love her, she loves you, you guys are disgustingly happy. There is no ‘buts’ when you’re disgustingly happy.”

“Why are you so hell bent on me getting married?”

“I just think it would be nice,” Esme reasons. “For you to settle down.”

“I live with someone. How much more settled down do you want me to be? You’ve got this bizarre obsession with weddings, you know that? I thought once Ovi and Riya started all the planning and got you mixed up in it, that you’d settle down a bit. Isn’t that enough? Being mother of the groom?”

“Maybe I just like living vicariously through other people. Being a part of the whole process. I didn’t exactly get that for myself. Either time. And believe me, I’m not complaining. With Tyler, I didn’t want a big wedding. I didn’t give a shit about any of that stuff. It was casual and it was comfortable. A justice of the peace. Four witnesses. I was more than happy with that. I just wanted to marry him. And it’s turned out pretty damn good so far.”

“But…”

“But maybe sometimes I feel like I missed out on something. Being a real bride. As stupid as that sounds. You know, the whole beautiful white dress and the veil and the flowers and the fancy dinner and dancing and all that shit. I guess sometimes I wish I HAD have done that. God…” she takes a swig of the hot chocolate. “...I sound like a whiny, ungrateful bitch don’t I.”

“I remember how you used to buy bridal magazines when you were in high school. Didn’t you used to have a binder full of pictures you cut out of them? And little sticky notes attached everywhere? Ideas you had for when it came time to have your own wedding. Am I imagining this or…?”

“No. You’re not. I DID have that. And it was more than one. Binder. One for dress and flowers, one for reception ideas, one for honeymoon destinations.”

“Jesus Christ, Esme. You ARE something special.”

“It was an escape, alright? Life was miserable. I needed something to keep me going. You know, I should have realized the second Mark vetoed all my ideas and insisted on Vegas that I was doing the wrong thing.”

“You think? Guy was a grade A douche.”

“I mean, it started out well. HE started out well.”

“No. He didn’t. There were red flags from day one. Don’t give him any credit; he doesn’t deserve any. What he deserves is exactly what he’s getting right now. Rotting away in the deepest recesses of hell.”

“Good riddance to old rubbish. But let’s not even think about him, let alone talk about him. Do you think it’s wrong? That sometimes I wish I had that experience? The whole real wedding, feeling like a bride thing? I mean, at the time I did. Feel like a bride. It’s not like I wore jeans or anything. I DID wear a dress. Just not a wedding dress. Fuck…” she sighs and rakes a hand through her hair. “...now I’m rambling. And you did not call to hear me ramble.”

“At least it’s sober rambling,” Riley teases. “And to be honest, I kind of miss it. The rambling in that cute, mousy little voice. Most of all, I miss you. I always do when you’re not around.”

“I miss you too. It’s been kind of rough. Not the best way to start Christmas vacation.”

“Let me guess. Mildred is being a bitch.”

“That doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. She’s been the queen bitch. I’ve officially been dethroned. She’s been mouthy and grumpy and just...oh my god...I’ve wanted to put my hands around her throat and shake some damn sense into her.”

“Puberty, I bet.”

“I don’t know what it is, but she’s off the charts bitchy. Her dad talked to her though. Last night. And I don’t know what he said, but she woke up this morning in a very cheerful and helpful mood. Total three sixty! But her head hasn’t started spinning around and she hasn’t started speaking in tongues, so I haven’t had to call a priest to do an exorcism. Yet.”

“Wait until she’s into boys. THAT should be fun.”

“Speaking of which, she went out yesterday with a friend and gave a sixteen year old boy her number. Told him she was fourteen.”

“Oh boy…”

“He actually called. Twice. First time he got lucky; I answered. Second time? He’s probably still cowering under his bed. Needless to say, Tyler was not impressed and he let this kid know. He emasculated him. Over the phone. I don’t think that kid will be dating for a while. If ever.”

“Better to have your balls handed to you over the phone than in person. Imagine if he’d shown up at your place?”

“That would have a shit show. Tyler would have lost it. That’s his little girl. His miracle baby. And he’s having a hard enough time with her growing up without pervy teenage boys showing interest in her. But enough about us. What’s this news?”

“You sitting down?”

“I am. With booze in my hot chocolate. So I’m prepared. Spill it.”

“Guess who IS getting married? And sent me an invitation.”

“Someone back home or…”

“Depends which home you’re referring to. Do you mean home as in where you live now, or where you came from?”

“Colorado hasn’t been home in a long time. But I’m assuming you’re talking about there.”

“You bet your wee little ass I am. You sure you’re ready for this?”

“I have seven kids and my husband was a mercenary. There’s nothing I haven’t heard or seen.”

“Kyle. And Allison.”

“No shit. And they invited you?”

“Mmmhmm. And I went and checked your mail and low and behold what do I find? A wedding invitation.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. That would be a family reunion for the ages. Is it wrong I’m almost tempted to go? Just for the drama? Just to say ‘hey, remember when you all said my marriage wouldn’t last a year and I should get it annulled before it was too late?’ Well guess what, bitches?”

“I would pay to see you get up and say exactly that. In lieu of a toast.”

“I wouldn’t even have to be drunk to do it. Not even the slightest bit tipsy. I just want to do it as a big fuck you to the whole family. You haven’t seen me in years, but here’s my gift.” She sighs and takes a sip of hot chocolate. “A girl can dream.”

“You should go. Just to be a thorn in everyone’s side. You deserve that. A little bit of revenge.”

“Tyler would never agree to going. Not in a million years. Once he told Kyle where to go and how to get there...in very graphic detail, I I might add...that was it. That bridge was burnt. There’s no repairing it. They’re dead to us. Although my mother did send the kids Christmas gifts and now I have tremendous guilt and an equal amount of stress when I realize I SHOULD call her.”

“You mean she actually remembered she has other grandchildren? Besides the ones that live in Colorado? DId I miss the flying pigs?”

“I swear it’s a ploy to get me to contact her. Which is why I’m so stressed. She doesn’t do things to be nice. She does things with an agenda. That’s her M.O. And she is going to suck me right in.”

“So I guess that means you don’t want the second part of my news?”

“Christ, there’s more?”

“She’s pregnant. Allison. Again. A third bun in the cursed oven.”

“Oh good grief. He put forth another spawn into this world?”

“Do you not feel sorry for those kids? Him as their father and her as their mother? She’s just as miserable as he is. That vapid, crusty, knuckle dragging heffer.”

Esme grins. “Tell me how you really feel, Ry.”

“They both make me want to punt kittens. For the love of God, won’t someone think of the kittens?”

“You know what really burns my ass? He had so much to say about me getting pregnant before marriage. He shit talked Tyler to no end about ‘only marrying my sister because you knocked her up’. And what does he do? He knocks someone up THREE times before marriage. That’s fucking rich.”

“He’s a hypocritical prick, what did you expect? That being said, I kind of want to go. Do you? Because you can be my plus one if you do. I’ll go if you go.”

“That is something I would seriously have to think about it. Things did not end well. Kyle is lucky he got out of Australia with his head not firmly shoved up his ass. The thought of going to his wedding and having to pretend to be happy for him? My patience does have its limits.”

“It’s open bar. We can get loaded on his dime.”

“Tempting, but not a total sell. I seriously do have to mull it over. And talk to my husband about it. Something tells me he isn’t going to be too keen on the idea. Considering everything Kyle has said and done? Not to mention the grief caused by the rest of my family? I don’t think Tyler is going to like the thought of being around them. He knows they drive me mental. And I don’t think he wants me having a psychotic break thousands of miles from home.”

“Maybe you can convince him to go. Offer ass play. That usually does it.”

“Bold of you to assume we don’t already do stuff like that. That ship has long sailed. It’s a regular thing now.”

“God, does he realize how lucky he is? Is that why he buys you so many nice things? Is your ass that special?”

“I’ll have you know that he buys things ‘just because’. It has nothing to do with my ass and what he’s allowed to do with it.”

“Sure it’s not. I’m going to call him an ass bandit. See his reaction.”

“Like it would bother him. There’s no shame in his game. He’s proud of his handiwork and his skills of persuasion.”

“See what happens when you get good dick? Your common sense goes right out the window. I still don’t know how he doesn’t break you in half.”

“And I’m still not giving you the details on how we manage things. But I will talk to him. About the wedding. Maybe I have my own skills of persuasion to use. It’s going to take some work. To get him to agree to go.”

“Daily blow jobs for a month or two?”

“Also bold of you to assume. It’s been almost every day, twice a day for about ten years.”

“No wonder the marriage is still going strong,” Riley teases. “No wonder he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“My man is satisfied and then some. Speaking of which…”

“What? It’s time to go satisfy him? You have a reminder set in your cell phone or something?”

“No. He’s not even home. But he will be. Soon. With Nugget. And I’ve got about five huge boxes and just as many bags of groceries to put away. And as much as I want to spend my day talking to you and sipping hot chocolate with Baileys in it…”

“It’s not even noon there. Are you becoming the town slut AND drunk?”

“You’ve been the town slut since grade nine. It would take a lot to dethrone you. But I should go. I do have six other children to take care of. I do have to keep them alive.”

“Just throw them bread and water. They’ll be fine. Well maybe not Mildred. Maybe water will make her turn. Like a gremlin.”

“The last thing I need is more of her. I’m not going to take the chance.” She downs the remains of her drink, then stands and stretches languorously. “I gotta go. Real life beckons. Time to put on my wife and mommy hat.”

“What do you put on when you’re offering your old man the caboose?”

“The packaging does not matter. Just the present itself. You know, I really do miss you.”

“I miss you too, MeMe. We’ll see you in six days. Love you. Give the kids hugs and kisses for me. And tell the Aussie the red menace said he is one lucky ass bandit.”

“You’re too much,” Esme laughs. “And I love you too.”

“Hang in there, sis. When it comes to your mom. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can do this. She can’t break you. Not anymore. Remember that, okay?”

“I will,” Esme promises, then disconnects the call.

*****

“Mummy!” Tanner squeals, as he races into the kitchen, bare feet slapping against the heated tile flooring and his arms spread wide. 

She never tires of that exuberance; how happy he is to be reunited with her no matter how much has time passed. The way his entire face lights up; eyes sparkling and that beaming, beautiful smile. How he initially giggles when she manages to scoop him up into her arms; wrapping his arm around her neck and giving a long, content sigh as he nuzzles his nose against her cheek and inhales the familiar scent that clings to her hair. When it’s his idea and he’s able to make the calls, he’s by far the most affectionate of the kids; initiating snuggles on the couch or randomly running up to give hugs and kisses or choosing to climb under a blanket on the couch; cuddling in tight while watching a movie. She knows it won’t last forever; he’ll mature cognitively and no longer want that kind of contact. And it will become far too difficult to pick him up; growing taller and stronger and making it impossible to put him on her hip. But for now, she’ll take the slow passage of time in favour of having that kind of relationship with him. How pure and innocent he is; his feelings, words, and actions one hundred genuine.

“I missed you!” He pulls back and holds her face in both hands; smile softening and his eyes glittering as he takes in the sight of her. “I missed you so much, mumma.”

“I missed you too.” She presses a kiss to his forehead and ruffles his hair. “Your cheeks are cold! And where’s your socks?”

“I got snow in my boots. Daddy put my socks and my mitts and my snow pants in the sink in the laundry room.”

“That’s a good daddy, huh? He knows how things work around here. You have a good time? Good breakfast?”

“It was an awesome time. It always is with daddy. Guess what I had for breakfast.”

“Hmmm…” Esme shifts him from one hip to the other. “...scrambled eggs?”

“Nope.”

“How about...porridge?”

His nose crinkles in disgust. “Ewww. Try again.”

“A veggie omelet?”

“That’s my second favourite. But I had my favorite today. You know what my favourite is.”

“I do,” she confirms, and pinches and tickles his tummy. “You had a beglian waffle with strawberries, bananas, and icing sugar.”

“Yep! My all time fave. It was sooooo good.”

“I bet you had tea to drink. Green with a slice of fresh lemon and orange.”

“I did. It was delicious. Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you. I always miss my Nugget. My favourite cooking and baking buddy. Speaking of which, guess what arrived? All the stuff you need to make your list of Christmas goodies.”

The smile broadens once more; eyes sparkling with excitement. “All of it?”

“Every last bit. I put the boxes in the pantry. So you can put stuff away and organize your area. And I left the list with it; so you can take inventory.”

“You’re the best, mum! The best chef’s assistance ever.”

“And you’re the cutest chef ever. Go on,” she presses a kiss to each of his cheeks and then sets him down on the floor. “I know you’re dying to check it all out. If there’s anything missing, we’ll order it right away, okay?”

“Okay,” he cheerfully agrees, then scurries off to the pantry and disappears inside. 

“He’s pretty happy,” Esme comments, as Tyler saunters into the kitchen; setting a paper bag emblazoned with the name and logo of her favourite bakery on the island. “You guys must have had a good morning. No tears? No meltdowns? No issues?”

“He had a couple rough spots. Nothing to worry about though. He dealt with it. Where’s the other half dozen? You finally snap and give them away?”

“TJ has the littles outside playing and Millie is upstairs in her room with Alannah. She woke up in such a good mood and was so helpful doing some of the decorating, that I said she could call her friend over. I’m probably going to regret my decision; Millie’s already asked if Alannah can have dinner here AND sleep over.”

“And by sleep over you mean ‘staying up until three in the morning talking and giggling’.”

“I already told them it’s okay, BUT if you had to come in yell at them to shut up more than once, you were going to make them sleep out in the snow. They might need to hear the threat from you, though. Complete with steely blue eyes and clenched jaw and fists. Think you could do that? Really play it up? Put the fear of God into them?”

“I’m not sure how comfortable I feel putting the fear of God into eleven year olds, but for you, babe? Anything. Speaking of which…” he nods in the direction of the bag from the bakery. “...I got you a little something.”

“You even remembered my favourite place. I’m impressed.”

“Only took my brain three years. And tons of text messages and reminders”

“I won’t tolerate even the smallest shit talking of yourself. Your brain is beautiful. Just like you.”

“I go and do something nice for you and that’s how you treat me? Calling me THAT?”

“You are beautiful. Deal with it.” She snags the bag of the counter and peers inside. “Two of each of my faves? What have I done to deserve this kind of spoiling?”

“Ever thought maybe I just do things just because I love you?”

“Something tells me there’s more to it than that,” she chides. “That it’s something to do with the fact that I was a good girl last night.”

“You were a very good girl last night. A very, very, VERY good girl. I figured your behaviour is worth at least two chocolate croissants.”

“You spoil me. I’m going to hide these from the kids. I refuse to share MY goodies. How many pints of ice cream have they eaten on me? How many mini chocolate bars have they devoured from MY stash? Those little heathens aren’t getting my croissants.”

“Speaking of little heathens…”

“I don’t think I like the way you said that, husband.”

“A new one moved in a little way’s down. Tried making friends with Tanner at the park.”

“Please tell me she didn’t get too close. That he didn’t shove her face in the snow. Or a drop a handful of it down her back.”

“Actually…” He joins her at the stove, standing behind her lending assistance after her quest to put the croissants in the very top cupboard proves futile. Even on her tiptoes. “...he handled it pretty well. Let her hang out with him for a bit. She did all the talking, but that’s women for ya.”

“For the record..” she turns around to face him, leaning back against the stove. “...I give you plenty of opportunities to talk when we go out. You just choose not to.”

“It’s been handy; being married to a social butterfly. I never have to say a word. Just let you chatter away.”

“Which explains why...after an entire year...Millie’s first teacher in Colorado was so surprised by what your voice actually sounded like. But I don’t mind; being married to the strong, silent type. What was this new kid like?”

“Annoying. Like most kids are. She seemed alright. A little pushy. Bossy.”

“Tanner’s used to THAT. He’s only been living with Millie for his entire life. What about the parents?”

“Just a mother. Raising her on her own.”

“Oh how nice. A single mom chatting you up at the park. Was she flirty?”

“Don’t start, Me. Not every woman flirts with me, regardless of what you think.”

“No. You’re right. Just eight out of ten. What was SHE like?”

“I don’t know. She was...chatty? I didn’t pay much attention. She was just there. Talking. It was in one ear, out the other.”

“What does she look like?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know. She looks like...a woman.”

“You talked to her but you didn’t pay attention to her appearance? You’re married, not dead. You know it’s okay to look, right? You’re allowed to. We only have a problem if you TOUCH.” 

“I don’t want to touch OR look. I don’t need to do either. But if you really want to know…”

“Is she cute?”

“I don’t know. She’s tall. Blond. Wears lots of makeup. Totally not my type.”

“You don’t even have a type. You’ve dated...and I am using that word VERY loosely...all kinds of different women. Shapes, sizes, colors, what have you. Since when do you have a type?”

“I don’t know, Me. Maybe for the last twelve and a half years? Since you showed up on my doorstep in those little shorts and that yellow tank top. You pretty much cemented your status as my type. My one and ONLY type. Teeny, dark haired, feisty, mouthy as all hell.”

“Some people would call you a glutton for punishment,” she teases.”Willingly hooking up with such a problematic woman.”

“Excuse me, have we met? You’re hardly the problematic one.”

“I think we both came with our fair share of issues. Maybe we both have to be a little crazy to put up with each other.”

“Maybe,” he grins. “But I can handle crazy.”

“How much can you handle? How much crazy do you think you can take?”

“I went from thinking I’d never have a kid again, to having SEVEN. I think it’s safe to say I can handle A LOT of crazy. You know what else I think? I think you worry way too much other women.”

“This coming from the man who punched a guy out in our driveway.”

“A man who followed my pregnant wife home. I think punching him out was warranted. But you? Getting worked up over these random women? Why? Why let bother you? None of them are showing up at our house, I’m not encouraging them. I don’t give a fuck about any of them. Not the ones at the soccer park or the school yard or some total stranger at the park. Just let it go. It’s been twelve years. I think it’s safe to say I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s not you I worry about. I trust YOU. Them? Not so much.”

“What are they going to do? Try and steal me away? I know how to say no. I’ve had to. Many times. Besides, you can’t steal something unless it wants to be stolen. And me? I’m perfectly happy where I am. Putting up with you. And your shit.”

“You’re such a sweet talker. And people say romance is dead.”

“Speaking of romance, can you do me a favour?”

“I’m not giving you head in the kitchen. I do have my limits, you know.”

“It’s nothing like THAT. That’s not all I think about, you know.”

Dropping her chin to her chest, she stares up at him pointedly.

“It isn’t. I only think about it...I don’t know...fifty percent of the time.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Okay, so maybe more like seventy, eighty. But this isn’t sexual. The favour I want. I mean, not ENTIRELY.”

“Not entirely? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s kind of sexual but it’s not at the same time. Depends how you look at it. And you, knowing how dirty and kinky you are, will probably look at it sexually.”

“Do I need to remind you that YOU corrupted ME? You turned me into the way I am. Don’t act innocent. I was a good girl before I met you.”

“Bullshit. No good girl likes being choked. And no good girl lets a guy she barely knows do the things you let me do over the course of five days. It’s been twelve years. Enough with the good girl crap. You were a bad girl, Me. You still are. I’ve just encouraged it.”

“You’re an enabler is what you are. So what is it? What’s the favour?”

A sly grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he takes a step forward, leaning into her with his full weight and pinning her between his much larger and stronger body and the stove. “You sure about this?”

“There’s nothing you can give that I can’t take. You should realize THAT by now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Reaching around, he deftly slides his hands down the back of her jogging pants; the sensation of cold palms against the warm of her bare ass causing her to shriek.. 

“You dick!” she shrieks, and valiantly -and unsuccessfully- struggles to escape; finding herself tightly pressed between the smooth metal of the stove and his broad, solid chest. “Jesus Christ! Tyler! You’re hands are fucking freezing! You shit head!”

“I needed you to warm my hands up. I wore gloves, but…”

“You didn’t have to warm them up on my ass! They’re so fucking cold! Like ice! You’re going to make me pee my pants!”

“Your ass is so warm, babe. Feels nice.” 

“You asshole!” She lays her hands on his chest, attempting to shove him away and then giving a loud, dramatic huff when she’s met with resistance. “What is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?! Tyler!” She squeals when his hands slide even lower; cold palms tightly gripping both cheeks of her ass. “You shit head! What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m cold. I need you to warm me up.”

“Not like THAT you don’t. Oh my God…” she wriggles against him when one hand slides over her hip and around to the front of her body; fingertips brushing against her stomach. “...what are you doing?! Get your hands OUT of my pants!”

“Now THAT’S a first. You saying that.”

“There is something wrong with you. Something seriously, seriously wrong with you.”

“It’s nice and warm up front.. And it’s really warm down here…”

“Don’t you even think about it!” She clamps her thighs shut around his hand. “What the hell is your major malfunction? Tanner is like ten feet away and could come wandering out here any second. This is not the time for this.” Regardless of her protests, she giggles when the tip of his nose and the scruff of his beard slide along the length of her jaw; a long, soft sigh escaping her lips when his teeth lightly nibble a path along the side of her neck.

“Let’s go have a quickie.” 

“As much as I want to….” her arms circle his neck, the nails on one hand scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “...we don’t even have time for that.”

“There is ALWAYS time for that.”

“Tanner is in the pantry.”

“So we’ll use the bathroom down here.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant it’s just not going to work right now. Tanner is ten feet away, TJ and the littles could come in at any second, Millie has a friend over. This is NOT the time.”

Sighing heavily, he reluctantly removes both hands from the inside of her pants and resorts to placing them on her hips. “Party pooper.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives a dramatic pout; nails on both hands sliding across the back of his neck, palms coming to rest on his shoulders. “It’s not been a very lucky day for either of us so far.”

“That’s because your kids are expert cock blockers.”

“I love how they become just my children when they get in the way of your sexual gratification. But I seem to remember that this morning was my idea. That I’m the one who told you to get Jacobi to shovel the snow so you could stay in bed with me. So technically, you blocked your own cock this morning.”

“It’s not blocked right now. I mean, give me ten or fifteen minutes and…”

“As tempted and as sexually frustrated as I am, I’m going to need a little more than ten to fifteen minutes. You know, to both receive AND give.”

He grins. “You’re in THAT kind of mood.”

“I am. I’ve been in it since this morning. So, no quickie. But I will make it up to you.”

His hands once more slide down to her ass. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s definitely a promise. And as far as this mother at the park goes…”

“Let’s NOT revisit that, okay?” He slides a palm up the back of her sweater, chuckling when she gives a small yelp and wriggles against him. “Don’t make me shove my cold hands in your pants again. Who gives a shit about the mother of the park? She was just being friendly.”

“Oh I bet she was being very friendly. Single mom? Probably thought you were a single dad. I mean, you WERE at the park...alone...with your kid. Easy assumption to make.”

“One of my kids. One of my SEVEN. I bet that made me pretty unattractive in her eyes. Finding out I have that many rug rats.”

“I don’t know. It makes you even more attractive in my eyes. I mean, I AM sort of biased. Considering I’m the one who helped make those seven children. And had a really fun time doing. But if you ask me…” she runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; slipping under the simple black henley top. “...I think there’s nothing sexier than a guy being a good daddy. And seeing as you're an awesome daddy, that makes you phenomenally sexy in my eyes.”

“I think your rating system.”

“And maybe I’m just playing favourites, but…” her index fingers hook around two of his belt loops and pull him even closer. “...but you’re the best baby daddy ever. SEVEN TIME baby daddy, for that matter. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Or one with better genes.”

“Well I’m glad I could be of some assistance. You know, besides the actual fun of making the kids.”

“It was a lot of fun wasn’t. The baby making.”

“Probably the best fun I’ve ever had. Or second best fun I’ve ever had. Because you know what’s better than making babies? Doing what DOES make them and not having to worry about making one.”

“There is a feeling of relief that comes with that,” Esme agrees. “It’s much more relaxing. And enjoyable. Having the fun but not having to worry about another little mouth to feed.”

“Not that we couldn't afford another mouth to feed,” Tyler points out.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there because we can’t have another one. It’s impossible. Scientifically. I don’t have the working parts anymore, remember? We both decided it was time for me to get the old tubes tied.”

“It is reversible.”

“It is. But that isn’t something we’re going to explore. Because as much as I love you and as beautiful as our children turn out to be, seven is the limit. I am babied out. My body can not take one more. And I’m forty one. My eggs are close to their expiry date.”

“We use the ones you had frozen. Before you got your tubes tied.”

“I froze them so I could donate to women who don’t have their own to use. Not for me to use. What’s gotten into you? Talking about another baby? Did you hold someone’s kid while you were out? You’ve always had a soft spot for babies. Did you get to hold a baby and now you’re longing for another one? Is that what happened?”

“No. I just thought maybe we could make an even number.”

“I thought you were enjoying life without toddlers and babies in the house? Without having to get up in the middle of the night for feedings and diaper changes? Without spending hours walking the floors with a colicky baby? All our kids are in school now. And it’s nice. Having the house to ourselves.”

“You’re at the store all day. And I’m usually caught up doing my shit. So it’s not like we’re actually spending time together in the empty house.”

“Are you lonely, husband? When I’m not around? Would you rather me be around more?”

“Maybe…”

“Because I don’t have to be at the store EVERY day. I have employees. That I trust to run the place when I’m not around. For weeks at a time once in a while. So if you WANT me to be home more often…”

Removing his hands from the under her shirt, he smooths down the simple cotton fabric and then places his palms on her hips. “I would like you to be home more. During the week. So we can have the house to ourselves AND spend time together.”

Her eyes sparkle as she grins up at him. “Was that so hard? Admitting you want me around? ‘Fessing up that you actually miss me when I’m gone?.”

“It was pretty painful, actually,” he chides.

“I will stay home. When we get back, I will talk to Brandon and Ashlynn about taking on more shifts and responsibilities. If they can’t do it, I will hire a daytime person. I know it’s important to you. The whole stay at home wife thing.”

“It’s not that it’s important. I just like it. I like having you around. I can’t help it.”

“It’s a huge sacrifice to make, but I will take one for the team. I will stay home more often. IF…”

“I’m almost scared to hear what you’re going to say next.”

“You and I need to have a chat. About the job. An actual talk. Calm and rational. I don’t want it turning into a fight and I’m not going into it blaming you for anything or attacking you for something, just so you know. But it’s something we need to discuss.”

“You’ve been talking to TJ.”

Esme nods. “He told me. About what he said to you.”

“About giving me shit, you mean.”

“He means well. You always tell him he’s the man of the house when you go away and he tends to take that role seriously. Probably TOO seriously. But he has your heart; it’s huge and it’s deep and all he wants to do is protect his momma. Same way you do. He didn’t say something to piss you off. Or hurt you. You realize that, right?”

“I was actually more impressed than hurt. That he had the balls to confront me like that. He’s pretty tenacious; gets that from his mum.”

“And he gets being fearless from YOU. Sometimes I hate it; he’s broken more bones and spent more times in the emergency room than I like to admit because he’s so willing and eager to try anything. But when it comes to standing up for people? And wanting to do the right thing? I admire that fearlessness in him. Same way I do with his daddy. I just don’t want you thinking he said any of that to hurt you. That’s the last thing he would ever do.”

“He was sticking up for his mumma. What I don’t get is why his mumma didn't stick up for herself. From the get go. Why even had to get as far as it did. If she’d just told me…”

“I didn’t think it was my place. Not when it was something for Anil.”

“Baby, you’re my wife. It was definitely your place.”

“I didn’t want to cause a thing. Between us. And I especially didn’t want to step on Anil’s toes. He’s our business partner. And he brings in a lot of clients which in turn brings in big money. And if you said no when he called and asked for your help, I was worried he’d get upset. And then you’d get upset. I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“He would have understood. If I told him that I needed to stay home with my family, he would have been okay with it. Why didn’t you just say something? Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want me to go? I would have stayed.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want to cause a thing. Between us. Because I know I said I was okay with it. You going away once or twice a year. And I was. Okay with it.”

“But…”

“But that was when you were going and staying behind the scenes. I’m totally fine with that; you going and running things but never actually getting your hands dirty. But this? What Anil had you do? Actually get back into the thick of things? As an active mercenary? Im’ not okay with that. At all. And yeah, I should have told you. But it WAS Anil and I didn’t want to say anything and have it cause issues. Between us and him and us as in me and you.”

“I thought we were past this.” He runs his hands along her arms and up onto her shoulders. “This whole hiding shit from each other. It’s been five years. Why is this starting again?”

“It’s not. Nothing is starting. I realize I should have told. How I really felt about you leaving this time. I was just worried how you’d react. I didn’t want you to think I was bossing you around or trying to control you or…”

“I wouldn’t have thought any of those things, babe. You’ve never BEEN any of those things. If you can’t handle me going away for work and…”

“I CAN handle it,” she insists. “Under certain circumstances. Behind the scenes and running things? I’m good with that. But you actually going out there? Putting yourself in the line of fire? Getting caught up in the dangers of it? I CAN’T deal with that. I just can’t. I’ve already almost lost you twice. I don’t want there to be a third time. Because I couldn’t handle that. The last time nearly destroyed BOTH of us. And it was a lot of work to get past and we’re still working on and we still struggle some days. But a third time? A third WOULD do so much damage. That I don’t think we’d get past.”

“If you want to stay home, I’ll stay. All you have to do is tell me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Me. For our marriage and our family. And if staying home will do that…”

“I’m not saying you have to say you can’t go out there. I just don’t want you going out there doing actual mercenary work. Because we agreed that part of our lives was over. And if you’re thinking of getting back into it…”

“I am not thinking that at all. I did Anil a favour. That’s it. I have no desire to go back to that life. He asked me to go and I went. That was it. I don’t want to go back to that, Me. That kind of existence. I want to be a husband and a dad. That’s it. I don’t want to be out there anymore than you want me to be.”

“Like I said, I don’t care if you’re going somewhere and you’re running the show. I can deal with that. Because I know you’ll be safe. But when you actually go out into the field, I can’t take it. I can’t handle my whole heart being out there like that. Putting himself in danger. I can’t spend days and weeks worrying that I’m never going to see you again. Because I like this life. But I LOVE it with you. I don’t want to do any of this by myself. And when you leave like that? That’s all I think about. Getting bad news. And I know me saying that makes me sound extra neurotic and…”

Taking her cheeks in his hands, he silences her with a kiss. “I don’t want you worrying like that. I don’t want to be putting you through all of that. You want me to stay, I’ll stay. Simple as that. I don’t need to go anywhere. Unless it’s desperately needed. And so far, things have been running pretty smooth. I’ll stay home. And I’ll tell everyone that that’s what I’m doing. So they DON’T ask for any favours.”

She heaves a sigh of relief, then lays her hands over his as they cradle her face. “So that’s it? You just agree with me? You agree to stay home?”

“You wanted calm and rational, yeah? That was pretty calm and rational.”

“It was VERY calm and rational. Which we’ve become amazing at, I have to admit. I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to force you into anything. Or that I’m being overprotective or that I’m trying to control you or…”

“Babe…” he speaks between pecks to her lips. “...just...stop...please…”

“I love you, Tyler. And you’ll probably never know how much, Whether you realize it or not or whether you’ll admit to it, you’re the glue that holds all of this together. All of US together. We need you. I need you. More than you could ever know. And you know what? This life would suck huge without you. So thank you. For being calm and rational. And for loving me the way you do. Even on the days I’m not so easy to love.” 

“It’s been a tough job, but someone’s had to do it,” he teases.

Standing on her tiptoes, she curls her arms around his neck and turns her face up towards him; sighing into his mouth when his lips covers her in a long, slow kiss. Then giggling when his hands once more find her ass; bringing his hands against it in a light slap and then gripping and pinching tightly. 

She pulls away, teeth scraping against his bottom lip. “I think you need a cold shower.”

“Yeah?” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he tucks wayward strands of her behind both her ears. “Well I think you need to take me up on that quickie.”

“Can you promise no kids will come in and interrupt? That you can get things accomplished...for BOTH of us?”

“I can try my best and I know how to lock a door.”

Grinning, she grabs him by the hand and pulls him out of the kitchen. “You’re lucky I love you.”


	9. Nighttime Chats

“Daddy?”

Tyler glances up for the end of the night of the task of surrounding Brooklyn with her variety of stuffed animals. The routine is always the same; blankets and comforter pulled up to her chin and tucked tightly around her, an enormous koala by one side of her head and an equally as large panda on the other, while the much smaller toys surround her long, slender body. She calls them her army; coming to life while she’s asleep to fight off anything bad and sinister that may creep into her room. And they have a one hundred track record; warding off any anxiety and bad dreams over the course of the past couple of years they’ve been ‘employed’. 

“Desi was married to a boy, right?”

“He was,” he confirms. 

“What happened to him? To Desi’s husband? Did he die?”

“He did. He got very sick.”

“The doctors couldn’t fix him?”

“No. They couldn’t.”

“Kinda like grandpa? The doctors couldn’t fix him when he got sick either.”

“Kinda the same thing. Just a different kind of sick. Desi’s husband had a problem with his brain. Grandpa, his heart wasn’t healthy anymore. Just gave out on him.”

“Do you miss him? Do you miss your daddy?”

“No. I don’t. He wasn’t my dad for a very long time.”

“Because he was mean to you? When you were a little boy? Is that why you say that? That he wasn’t your daddy for a long time?”

“That’s not stuff you need to worry about, okay? That stuff happened a long time ago.” 

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore; the pain and the anger that years of both physical and mental abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father no longer eating away at him with the ferocity it once possessed. Years of therapy has dulled both the agony and the rage, as has being reminded that his father’s behaviour and addiction issues had always been just that: HIS issues. Tyler himself had done nothing wrong. In no way, shape, or form had he been responsible for his father had treated him; a vulnerable and scared little boy that had been subjected to witnessing his mother’s abuse before having to endure his own. The only mistake he’d ever made was being brought into the world. 

“I’m sorry he was mean to you. I’m glad you’re not mean to us. That you’re nice ALL the time. Even when we’re driving you nuts. I’d be really sad if you died. I’d miss you tons. I bet Desi misses his husband a lot. Do you think he cries about it? Because he misses him? Because he still loves him?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he has his moments. It’s hard; losing someone you love and thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Some people never get over something like that.”

“If something happened to mummy, would you get over it?”

“You know what? I don’t think I would. And where’s this all coming from? Asking about Desi and his husband and grandpa…”

“Does Desi like boys AND girls?”

“That’s what he says.”

“Like mummy likes both.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I DO have ears. I can hear. People talk.”

“And you eavesdrop.”

“I can’t help if people talk loud. Mummy likes boys and girls but she still picked you. Out of all those people. How come? How come she picked you and not another boy? Or a girl?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask HER that. Sometimes, I have no idea why she did.”

“She probably thought you were really cute. I’m sure you were. When you were younger and you first met mummy.”

“Excuse you? How old do you think I am? Are you suggesting I’m ugly now?”

“I don’t know how old you are. I just know you’re older than mummy. But A LOT.”

“Six years, thank you very much. That’s not a lot. And it’s not even a full six years.”

“And I don’t think you’re ugly. You’re obviously good looking if all us kids are. You’re just...daddy. I mean, you have really nice eyes. And a cute smile.”

“Too late. You already hurt my feelings.”

“You’re a big, tough guy. You can take it.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m very sensitive. And you wounded me. Deeply.”

“Yeah, right.” She giggles when he presses a noisy kiss to one of her cheeks followed by the other. “I love you, daddy.”

“Kissing ass won’t help you now,” he teases.

“You know I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. And you ARE cute. For a daddy.”

“That’s somewhat better,” he says, as he tucks loose strands of hair behind one of her ears, then the other. “I think.”

“If I grow up and like girls, that will be okay?”

“More than okay.”

“And if I like boys?”

He shrugs. “That’s fine too.”

“What if I like both?”

“I say more power to you. You’ve got double the options. Are we done now? Got all the questions out? Enough chit chat for tonight? I know you’re doing this to stall going to sleep.”

A slow grin spreads across her face. “You’re good.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. There’s five more ahead of you that have tried every trick in the book. There’s nothing you can bring that I haven’t dealt with. More than once.”

“I have one more question.”

“Brooklyn…”

She giggles. “Daddy…”

“One more. That’s it. One more question and then lights out.”

“What if Santa forgets we’re here? In New York City?”

“Why would he forget? He knows we come here every year.”

“Well, he’s really old, yeah? What if he has old people problems and just forgets? What if he takes the presents to Australia but we’re here? Then what happens?”

“Tell you what, I will email him and send him a friendly reminder that we’re here. Sound good?”

Her eyes widen. “You have Santa’s email?”

“I have everyone’s email. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy. I’ve got connections.”

“You’re the best daddy ever. For lots of reasons. Not just your connections.”

“There you go kissing ass again,” he chides, then smooths her hair away from her face and presses a kiss to her brow. “Love you. Sleep good.”

“Goodnight, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I bet I love you more than mummy does.”

“No one loves me more than mummy. No one. Mummies love differently. They just do.”

“Well, you know what? You’re very lucky. To have the mummy you do. I definitely couldn’t have asked for a better mum for you guys. She’s pretty awesome, isn’t she.”

Brooklyn nods.

“Now. Sleep. Please.” He runs a hand over her silky, dark hair and pecks her lips. “ Or it won’t be a nice email I send to Santa.”

“You say that every year and he still comes.”

“Don’t push your luck.” He grins at the giggle that erupts from her lips when places his palm against her face; index and ring finger gently pushing her eyes closed.

It’s her mother’s giggle; high pitched yet soft and adorable. While in some respects she’s a lot like him -the same colour of eyes and tall frame with long torso and limbs- there’s more Esme in her. The tiny, little voice and that bright, welcoming smile; long dark hair and a bubbly and extremely social personality. She makes friends easily; amicably chatting to even strangers on the street and never passing a dog that she never says ‘hi pupper’ to. There’s a lot of love in that little body; enjoying both giving and receiving affection and never shying away from telling her parents and her siblings how much she loves them. And she’s fierce; feisty and tenacious and never backing away from a challenge.

“Sleep,” he encourages. “Please.”

“You won’t forget to email Santa?”

“I promise I won’t,” he assures her, as he heads for the door; picking up random toys and discarded clothes along the way and dropping them in a nearby chair. “Now keep those eyes closed. No more talking. Bedtime.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up, right? You’re not going away again?”

“Never again,” he promises, and lingers in the doorway. “Sweet dreams of sweet things, baby girl.”

“They will be. Sleep tight, daddy.”

Smiling, he flicks out the light and closes the door; leaving it slightly ajar to allow soft beams from the hall night light to filter into the room. Even after all these years and so many kids before her, it never gets old. The way the name ‘daddy’ sounds when coming out of tiny lips.

*****

She’s already in the living room when he joins her downstairs; locking doors and windows and turning off lights on his way. The house is relatively silent. The hum of the furnace and the muffled giggling and chatter that drifts down from Millie’s bedroom; the two eleven year olds enjoying the hot chocolate and cookies that Esme had brought to earlier and showing no signs of slowing down, let alone falling asleep. It had been a long afternoon and equally as long evening; an early dinner with Desi followed by taking the kids to see the tree at Rockefeller Center and then finding one of the local stands to pick out their own. While the snow has finally stopped, the temperature has dropped considerably; seven bundled up children whining about still being cold makes for a tedious evening. Apple cider and hot chocolate had calmed the nerves and the fresh air and the playtime in the snow earlier in the day had worked to tire out the three littlest. And he’d had to resort to carrying two exhausted twins; Takota falling asleep with an arm around his neck and his head on his shoulder well before they finally arrived home.

“Must be my lucky night,” Tyler says, as he turns off the remaining lights in the kitchen and joins his wife in the living room. She sits on the couch; clad in a pair of red, green, and white flannel pyjamas and her hair tossed up into a messy bun. “You’re wearing your sexy jammies. They match.”

“Thought I’d spoil you. Up the sexiness ante a bit. Nothing screams romance like flannel instead of jogging pants and a t-shirt.”

“I don’t know; you’re pretty damn sexy when you wear my shirts.”

“Are they all asleep?”

“Most of them. Declan’s in with TJ and Tanner again. Sleeping on the floor. With nothing but a pillow and a blanket.”

“Remember how he used to do that as a toddler? He’d always be on the floor beside his bed. Very rarely was he in it when we went to check on him.”

“He’s definitely an odd duck that kid. What do you expect? He’s a ginger.”

“Speaking of gingers, the Red Menace told me to say hi. That she misses you and can’t wait to see you.”

“Can’t wait to torment me you mean.” He squeezes in between her and the back of the sofa; leaning back against the arm and stretching out one leg and letting the other dangle over the edge. 

“You know she loves you. In the same way, I know you love her.” She settles herself between his splayed thighs and leans back against him; one of his heavy, muscular legs draping across both of hers. 

It’s one of her favorite times of the day; the quiet that comes after all the kids have gone to bed and day is finally winding down. More often than not, it’s their first chance at being alone together since the early morning hours; the day time filled with the hours she puts in at the bookstore and the various responsibilities he has on his plate. His schedule isn’t nearly as full as hers, filling the voids in between paperwork, payroll duties, and Skype meetings with clients with things around the house; chickens and goats to tend to, random reno and repair projects and whatever may be on the ‘honey do list’ she always has tacked to the fridge.

It DOES get lonely; running out of things to do and finding himself boring quickly and missing both the noise and chaos that comes with having seven kids. Most of all, he misses her. Those three years before buying the bookstore had given them a lot of time to spend together; the older kids already at school and the youngest twins at daycare. When he didn’t have business to tend to, they were inseparable; hours spent on the beach, trips into town for lunch and shopping, long drives that would begin as soon as the kids were gone and would end just in time for the bus to arrive at the house. That time spent together had been what had truly cemented their roles -outside of being spouses and raising a family together- in each other’s lives; genuinely enjoying one another’s company and quickly realizing that they ARE one another’s best friends and truest and most loyal confidants. And he often finds himself longing for those days back; when she was home more often and they could just easily drop everything on their plates and just be together.

“This is nice,” she heaves a sigh of contentment, her fingertips skimming up and down his forearm as it rests across her collarbone. It’s relaxing; all the lights off aside from the glow from the electric fireplace and the white mini-lights wrapped around the garland that lines the mantle. “This is very, VERY nice.”

“I know how you usually like to do this WHEN the tree is up. But I thought we could slum for one night.”

“It’s perfect. Being here with you. Like this. Time alone. Just us. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. I missed these arms. A LOT.”

“How corny is it if I say something like ‘I missed you being in them’?”

“Not corny at all. Very sweet though. Very romantic.”

“You know if you had told me a week ago that you didn’t want me leaving…”

“We are NOT having that conversation again. Water under the bridge. All the matters is right here and right now. Us. And these big, strong arms. Big, strong, SEXY arms.”

Grinning, he presses a kiss to her temple. “You are very good for my ego.”

“It was in the vows. That I had to stroke your ego at least twice a day. Three times on Sundays.”

“I must have missed that part.”

“It was in the fine print. Right in there with how you have to tell me at least three times a day that you love me and that I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

“I would tell you all that even if it wasn’t in the fine print. It’s all true."

“You’re such a good husband. I think I’ll keep you. I kinda like having you around.”

“Are YOU actually admitting to missing ME when I’m gone? You mean I actually don’t annoy you as much as you let on?”

“I just like giving you a hard time every now and then. Give you a challenge. Keep you on your toes. And for the record, I ALWAYS miss you. I miss knowing you’re in bed next to me; that if I have a bad dream you’ll be right there trying to make it all better. Even if all you do is just hug me. I miss hearing your voice and seeing you smile and teasing me about my height.”

“I never thought I’d hear you admit to that last one.”

“It’s just part of it. Who we are. You’ve always done it; give me a hard time for being so tiny. And I miss it when it doesn’t happen. When you’re not there to give me grief for not being able to reach things at the bottom of the freezer or I need a step stool to get things out of cupboards. It’s a weird thing to admit, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I mean, I miss when you hog all the covers and talk in your sleep. We have some of our best conversations when you do that.”

“We both have our ‘things’. Our little quirks. And I’d miss yours if they weren’t around anymore.”

“I have to admit, I’d miss our middle of the night chit chats. When you start going on about ketchup and toilet paper and kitty litter for a cat we don’t even have.”

“I haven’t talked about those things in a LONG time and you know it.”

“Now you just talk about ex boyfriends and how much you miss them.”

“I do not,” she laughs, and directs an elbow into his stomach. “I would never do that. And who is there to talk about? There was Mark and one more before him. That’s not a very long list. And I sure as hell would never mention EITHER of them. I’m surprised you don’t spill any of your secrets while you’re asleep. The whore that you were.”

“Not exactly secrets when I was honest about it right from the start. Besides, once you came along…” he tightens his hold on her and presses a kiss to her cheek. “...that was it. That was all gone. That part of my life.”

“I wonder if they ever missed you. All your ladies in different ports. I wonder if they ever wondered what the hell happened to you.”

“Probably just figured I ended up catching a bullet or drinking myself to death.”

“Do you ever miss any of them?”

“You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious with that question.”

“I mean, do you ever miss that part of the old life? All the different women?”

“Why would I?”

“Like Baskin and Robbins ice cream. Thirty one flavors.”

“Well, there WAS more than thirty one, but…”

“Do you ever miss THAT? Having more than one flavour? Not being able to sample different ones? Do you ever miss that part of your old life?”

“If I did, I never would have given up THAT part. I never would have gotten married again. You really think I would have? Taken on a wife? Had seven kids? If I wanted to be the way I was, I would have scared you off twelve and a half years ago.”

“Well, you DID try. You just weren’t very good at it. Epic fail on your part.”

“That’s when I knew I was in big trouble. When you couldn’t be scared away. That was a turn on, you know. This tiny little thing standing up for herself. Not even batting an eyelash. Not scared in the slightest.”

“I knew what you were up to. I knew you weren’t trying to hurt me. That it was a defence mechanism. That it was all about you and not at all about me.”

“Goddamn you and your four years of psychology classes.”

“We have come a long way since then. Since that crappy little hotel room. Can you believe it’s been that long? Twelve and a half years? Since Dha...you know...that place.”

“Honestly? Sometimes it feels like a hundred years ago. Other days, feel like a week ago.”

“It does have a way of hanging around,” she reluctantly admits. “But we HAVE. Come a long way since then. Since finding out about Millie while you were still in the hospital. Now she’s going to be twelve. She’ll be a year away from being a teenager. I don’t know how THAT ever happened. It seems like just yesterday the doctor was telling us she was a girl. Now…”

“Now she’s lying about her age and has sixteen year old boys calling the house. How the hell did THAT happen?”

“She’s growing up and I hate it. I hate every damn second of it. Just like I hate her smart mouth and her attitude. But I LOVE her. More than she’ll ever know. She’s my first. After thinking I’d never have any.”

“She’ll calm down,” Tyler assures her, free hand smoothing her hair off her brow. “Give it a couple years.”

“A couple years?! I won’t survive a couple years of that. I just won’t. She’s already testing the limits of my sanity.”

“Well for now, she’s up in her room and she’s quiet and she’s behaving. So how about we just NOT talk about her? How about we not talk at all? Because this IS nice. Being here like this. With you.”

Smiling, she places a kiss on his forearm and then rests her head back against his chest. It’s all so familiar; the feel of that solid, strong body pressed against hers and the smell that clings to his skin and clothes. Yet it never gets old; the comfort that comes with the many things that you associate with the person that you love. The old Esme...the one who’d ceased to exist that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge...would have long ago grown tired of the ‘same old, same old’; bored within a couple of months and no longer enjoying someone’s company and finding things that annoyed her and making up lame excuses to get out of spending time with them. 

She’s never experienced that with him. Missing him terribly when he’s gone and practically counting down the days and hours until he walks through the front door, looking forward to those snippets of alone time together, enjoying even the simplest of moments with him. Things have always come so easy between them, even from day one; the conversation flowing smoothly and easily, the trust strong and readily apparent, the enjoyment that comes with just seeing each other’s smiles and hearing one another’s voices. And maybe saving him that day had been partly pure selfishness; she’d wanted more time with him. Feeling things in such a short period of time that years with Mark or her first ever boyfriend had ever accomplished. She hadn’t been ready to give up on him; no matter how broken or damaged. Although he’d spent years closing himself off to all feeling and had believed he wasn’t deserving of kindness and affection, she’d seen the good inside of him. He wasn’t like any of the other mercs she’d worked with in the past. They’d been cold and callous and held very little regard for human life; lusting for the blood of their ‘enemies’ and enjoying the action of snuffing out another’s existence. Viewing those who they were in charge of saving as nothing more than a package; a trophy representing a huge payout. 

Tyler had been different; feeling no joy or sense of satisfaction of having to kill, but doing it as a means of survival. Despite the years spent heavily drinking and being addicted to pain meds, he’d had a lot of humanity left inside of him; a compassion and understanding in his eyes that betrayed the depth of hurt, guilt, and regret that he harbored. While it has taken years to fully break all the walls down and at times he still struggles with the leftover toxic masculinity that his father had drilled into him, the patience and hard work had been more than worth it. He’s more comfortable in being his true self now; no longer hiding his thoughts and worries and feelings from her out of fear of feeling like a burden or putting too much on her already overflowing plate. And while it isn’t a side of him that he lets a lot of people see, his circle of trust is expanding; slowing allowing others to get closer to him and discover who he is inside of that tough shell.

She sighs at the touch of his lips against her temple. Her fingers pushing through his; placing their joined hands on her stomach as he presses a series of feathery kisses against the outer edge of her ear and along her jaw. And she smiles when he reaches the corner of her mouth, eyes still closed as she turns her face into his and pecks his lips.

He removes the arm that rests across her collarbone; fingers gently as they brush hair away from her brow. “You good?” 

“I’m good. Very good. You tired?”

“A little.”

“You’re probably still playing catch up from the jet lag. It wasn’t exactly the most relaxing day.”

“It’s Christmas. If it was relaxing, I’d be worried.”

“It was nice of Desi, though. To step up like he did. Helping put up all the lights outside, taking all those presents to wrap.”

“He’s a good guy. I know he thinks very highly of you.”

“If I could pick my siblings, he’d be first on my list. He’s done more for me...for us and the kids...than my entire biological family combined.”

“Definitely the big brother you deserve.”

“I think he’s lonely. I know he jokes around a lot; his crush on you and guys at the gym and some barista at the coffee shop up the street. But I think that’s a cover. For how he’s really feeling. I think he just wants to be around people. I think he likes hanging out here. There’s lot of activity and noise and always something going on. And we accept him. As is. I think we make him feel less alone.”

“Hey, if he's got balls to put up with the craziness, he’s more than welcome to come around as much as he likes. Besides, you need a friend. One that you’re NOT married to. Who else are you going to bitch to? About me.”

“You’ll be surprised to hear that I no longer bitch about you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, so maybe I don’t bitch about you as much as I used to,” she teases. “I’m sure you bitch about me. When you’re hanging out with Desi or Andy. I’m pretty certain I feel my ears burning any time you’re out with either of those guys.”

“I only say nice things.”

“Yeah, right,” Esme laughs. “I love your continued efforts to stroke my ego and admire your attempts at ass kissing, but I know for a fact I do things that drive you insane. And you know what? That’s okay. Because you stick around regardless. So I can’t be THAT bad.”

“I tolerate you,” he teases, and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“It must just tire you right out. Spending twelve years taking one for the team like that. I don’t know how you do it. Live such a hard existence.”

“The benefits are good. Very good, actually.”

“I know what kind of benefits you’re referring to. I’m no longer a solid B?”

“I said that twelve and a half years ago. And I was joking.”

“I gave you a damn good rating. An A plus plus. And you go and do me like that? Call me a solid B? That’s some fucking nerve.”

“I admired your enthusiasm and your willingness to try new things and I knew it wouldn’t take much to get the grade up. Now you’re a definite A plus, plus, PLUS. Your stamina still needs some work, but you’ll get there.”

She laughs and tilts her head back to look up at him. “Are you grading on a curve or…?”

“Just going by personal experience, I think it’s a fair grading system.”

“You are such a ho. Or WERE, I should say. I don’t know whether to be flattered you graded me so high or offended. You either had a lot of really good sex or a lot of really bad sex. I’m not sure.”

“A mix of everything. Good, mediocre, horrible.”

“Where am I on that scale? Am I in between good and mediocre?”

“Are you kidding?” He places a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re not even on the scale. You’re way past good. You have your own scale.”

“You just have all the right answers. You have learned well in the past twelve and a half years.”

“So have you,” he chides. “In all the best ways. Now, if I could get you to stop squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle and using my razors to shave your legs…”

“Nope. Sorry. Deal with it. I deal with things that you do that annoy me. We’ve got to keep things interesting. We get too perfect together and that’s bad news. We need some kind of drama. And if the only drama we have is over toothpaste and razors and your cold feet and snoring, I’ll take it.”

“Considering some of the drama we’ve gone through, I’m with you on that. I’ll take you squeezing the middle of the toothpaste tube over all the other stuff any day of the week.”

“See? We HAVE come a long way. We even had a rational and calm discussion today. No one’s feelings got hurt, no one freaked out, no one tossed blame around. It was just...very...ADULT. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of US.”

“So am I. And we have. Come a long way. Gonna be thirteen years. In May.”

“Thirteen years of putting up with the likes of you,” she chides. “I must have fallen and hit my head pretty hard at some point in my life.”

“Fuck you. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you and you know it.”

“You are,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “I’m not afraid to admit that. Other people are surprised to hear it and question my sanity…”

“Shut up,” he playfully orders, thumb repeatedly brushing against her cheek as he drops his head to kiss her. “I got you something. While I was out with Tanner this morning.”

“You mean other than the croissants?”

“Something better than the croissants.”

“I don’t know, husband. That’s my favourite bakery you went to. Best croissants I’ve ever had. I don’t know how you can possibly top that.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s better. But I’ll let you be the judge.” Reaching into the crevice between the back of the couch and the cushion, he pulls out the box from Cartier.

She grins. “You sneaky bugger. You had this planned.”

“I was waiting for the right moment. Doesn’t get better than this, I don’t think.”

“Tyler, what have you done? How many times have we had this conversation? About you NOT needing to buy me expensive things?”

“A dozen or more. But I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell you every time: I don’t care. I buy you things because it makes me happy. And I know deep down, even though you don’t care about materialistic crap, it makes you happy too.”

“YOU make me happy. Everything is just extra.”

“Well maybe I like being extra sometimes. Especially when it comes to you.”

“But it’s not even Christmas yet.”

“It’s not a Christmas present. It’s a ‘just because’ present. Well, maybe it’s a bit of a ‘sorry I fucked up when I went away on the job’ present too.”

“We talked about that. I should have told you that I didn’t want you going. You didn’t have to buy me something because you felt bad about going away. It IS still your job.”

“It was a shitty move. Going right out there. I know better than that. I’ve got a wife and seven kids that need me. I shouldn’t have put myself at risk like that. It was selfish. I know it was. And I’m sorry. That I went. That I didn’t put you guys first.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I should have told you. We both screwed up. I don’t need an expensive gift as an apology. Your words and changed behaviour are more than enough.”

“I bought it because I wanted to. Because I love you. Because I want you to have nice things. Let’s not turn it into something isn’t it. Take it. Please.”

“You are so stubborn,” Esme sighs and takes the box from him. “You’re going to make me cry, aren’t you.”

“Babe, you cry over commercials. So I’m pretty sure this is a given.”

“Damn you,” she teases, and then turns her body sideways; sitting up between his thighs and placing both legs over one of his. “Wait…” she clamps the lid down before opening it up all the way. “...maybe we should wait until Christmas.”

“Me, it’s NOT a Christmas gift. You’ve got enough of those coming. Just open it. Please.”

“For the record, I DON’T expect expensive things from you.”

“For the record, I don’t care. I do it because I want to. Simple as that.”

“I love you, but you are so hard headed. Fine. I accept your ‘just because’ gift. Just because.” After another sigh, she opens the lid on the box; tears immediately springing to her eyes and a hand moving to cover her mouth. One of Cartier’s signature Love bracelets; rose gold that sparkles in the glow given off by the fireplace and the lights on the mantel. “How did you even remember this? I’ve only brought it up once or twice.”

“I know my brain’s fucked, but I remember a lot of things. Especially when it comes to you.”

“It’s perfect ,” her voice trembles with emotion, and she leans into him and presses her lips to his. “YOU’RE perfect. You are way too good to me. I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve a lot more. You hooked up with me when I had nothing to offer you. When I was a mess and all I could give you was that little, crappy apartment outside of Sydney and second hand furniture and clothes from thrift shops. When I didn’t know how the hell I was going to provide for you or our baby girl.”

“We didn’t have much but we were happy. YOU were happy. That was the start of everything. The start of us. The start of our family. I wouldn’t go back and change that. I wouldn’t give up that time. That little apartment and that ugly brown couch and love seat and the mattress on the floor. I wouldn’t change any of that. We didn’t have a lot, but what we did have was OURS.”

“I was happy to be with you. I was happy to just be alive. That I survived to get another chance. And I only survived because of you.”

“Let’s not revisit that, okay? You know I don’t like talking about it. That I don’t like being put on a pedestal for doing what I did. I did it because I was falling in love with you and I wanted more time with you. Because I wanted to see if anything could come of it. Of US.”

“And it did. And I think it’s turned out pretty damn good.”

“It has,” she agrees, and smiles when gentle fingertips clear away tears from her cheeks and the side of her nose. “It’s been the best twelve years of my life. I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Or anyone. Not even the really hard times.”

“And that’s why I bought that. Because of those hard times. Because you’ve stuck by me no matter what. No matter how angry or frustrated you got. No matter how many promises I broke or many times I hurt you. You always gave me another chance. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You never gave up on me. On us. And that’s why I do what I do; spoil you like I do. Because you loved me when I had nothing to give you. You’ve given me everything, Me. A new life. Seven kids. Yourself. And you deserve the moon, babe. And I’d even give you that if I could.”

“I know you would. This is...I don't even know what to say….it’s beautiful and it’s amazing and it’s overwhelming and I just…” she takes a deep, shaky breath, then smiles at him through her tears. “...thank you, babe. It’s beautiful. YOU’RE beautiful.”

“Don’t do me like that, Me. Don’t call me something like that after I do something nice for you.”

“You will never win this argument. You ARE beautiful. Inside and out. Fight me. I will die on this hill.”

“I’d rather just kiss you, to be honest.”

“You sappy bugger,” she teases, and he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him. The resulting kiss long and soft and sweet; her palm resting on the side of his face and her body pressed tightly against his. “Will you help me with it? So I can wear it right away?”

“Anything for you, Me.” He plucks the bracelet from the box; opening it with the tiny ‘screwdriver’ supplied and then slipping it onto her wrist and tightly securing it. “So now I keep this?”

“Yup. You’re the one who gave it to me and the only one who can open it. I think it’s perfect for us.”

“So do I.”

“And it’s beautiful and I love it. Mind you, l love you slightly more.”

He grins. “Just slightly?”

“A lot more. Thank you, babe,” she leans in to kiss him. “It’s perfect and it’s beautiful and I can’t wait to show it off. You know what I think we should do now?”

“What’s that?”

“Make out on the couch. Like horny teenagers. I never got that experience; making out on the couch and being worried about getting caught.”

“You have lived a very sheltered life. Never skinny dipped, never had sex in a car, never made out on a couch.”

“Maybe. But I get to experience all those things with you, And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather experience them with. So what do you say? Want to? Make out?”

“You know what…” he tosses the empty box onto the coffee table and then grabs a hold of her hips; laughing along with her when he dumps her unceremoniously onto her back. Loving the way her eyes sparkle as she looks up at him; nothing but love and trust as his much heavier and larger body hovers over hers. “...I think I’m up to it.”

*****

She spends the majority of the night tossing and turning; her conversation with Riley on repeat. She’s exhausted yet can’t find rest; the covers suddenly too heavy or too hot, body achy and tired yet unable to get comfortable enough to find a sleep. When she does manage to doze off, it’s interrupted by random dreams; painful childhood moments at the hands of her mother and the loss of her father interspersed by vivid and terrifying recollections of what had happened in Dhaka more than twelve years ago. She hasn’t experienced nightmares concerning the latter in years; thanks to numerous therapy sessions and journaling about the experience and learning how to be comfortable with being open and honest about everything she’d been through. 

It’s disheartening; dreaming about dark Dhaka alleys and hiding out in an empty factory and a disgusting sewer. And the bridge. Having to trust Saju with her life when he had already been assigned to take it; changing his mind at the last possible moment and disappearing deep in the forest and leaving her to fend for herself. The fear that it wouldn’t be enough; that she and Ovi would never make it across despite everyone’s best efforts. And then coming so close to freedom and choosing not to take it; turning down that escape on the helicopter in order to try and save someone else’s life. The choice had been easy; there’d be no way in hell she ever would have left him there. And if she hadn't been able to save him, at least he wouldn’t have been alone when he died. It had been the first time she’d ever been THAT selfless; willing to put her own fears and her own safety aside in order to protect someone else. 

It had been a relief waking up from THAT dream. Breathless and near tears; chest tight and heavy and both brain and heart racing and her body coated in a thin sheen of sweat. For what seemed like an eternity she had laid there in the darkened room listening to her husband’s soft, deep breathing; grateful that all of the surgeries and physio appointments and the ongoing therapy has given him the chance to finally rest. While his mind is still filled with the mistakes of the past and the ghosts of bad decisions, he’s no longer heavily burdened by them; his mental health issues well managed thanks to a great doctor and a consistent routine of medications. Physically he’d been given a new lease on life; still hampered by arthritic flare ups but no longer living in constant and near crippling pain. He’s happier now. Calmer. Able to enjoy his time as a husband and a father because he’s no longer held back by agony. But he’s been left with lasting memories of a life lived on the edge; scars -a mixture of short and long and thick and jagged- that seem to mar nearly every inch of his body. And she’d allowed gentle fingertips to explore the ones on his back; tracing the ‘war wounds’ and the edges of the various tattoos that paint his skin. The long healed wound on his lower back causing her breath to catch in her throat and the tears to threaten once again. 

It had been THAT particular memory that had made her leave the room. The sight of that scar bringing back all the pain of five years ago; the worry and the fear and the rage simmering inside of her. She still harbours so much hate; directed at Mahajan and Asif’s people and Nathan himself. And there’s that lingering guilt that doesn’t come out to play often, but hurts like hell when it does; hating herself for not realizing the original letter sent to her was in fact a fake. Had she looked closer, she would have been able to spot it. And t would have kept the mole theory open and Tyler would never have trusted Nathan.

She sips a herbal tea while sitting in the sunroom; kept warm by one of her husband’s hoodies and both Saju and Mac sleeping on her feet. When not even the hot, soothing drink is enough to calm her nerves, she resorts to junk food; taking a bowl of ice cream back to bed with her. It had been one of her guilty pleasures when pregnant Millie; rocky road covered with melted peanut butter. It’s a comfort food; a relatively harmless little thing that never fails to make her feel at least a bit better.

Tyler stirs beside her, sighing heavily as he rolls onto his back. A forearm across his forehead and his eyes still closed as he reaches for her; fingertips brushing against the small of her back, palm sliding up her spine and coming to rest on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Having a snack,” she manages around a mouthful of ice cream. 

“What?” He removes his forearm from over his eyes and reaches for his cell phone that sits on the nightstand; groaning when he checks the time. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep.”

Tossing his phone back onto the table, he runs both hands over his face and then through his hair as he sits up; grimacing slightly as he leans back against the headboard. “What’s going on?”

“I’m eating my feelings.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a lot of them. And eating makes them feel better.”

“You couldn’t have these feelings during the day?”

“I kept having weird dreams. About you and my family and Dhaka and other crazy things. It’s stress. I’m pretty sure it’s stress. You know how ‘extra’ I get at Christmas time.”

“What’s there to be stressed about? All the hard stuff is done. All we have to do is grab a few extra things and decorate a tree. What are you freaked out about?”

“Everything. Anything. You know how I get at this time of the year. Always wanting everything to be perfect.”

“Nothing has to be perfect. The kids don’t care. All they care about is being here and if Santa shows up and that’s it. They don’t give a crap about anything else. They don’t care if they have Chinese food for dinner and eat it off paper plates. You do this every year; work yourself up like this.”

“It’s bred into me. Wanting Christmas to be a certain way. This is all my mother. Wanting the house to be perfect and the decorations to be on point and the food to be amazing. And you say I’m nothing like her? I am definitely like her.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re nothing like her. What’s going on? What’s eating your ass?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“If you’re going to say it’s because I’m not eating YOUR ass, no I don’t want to hear it. Even I have limits.”

“That’s just damn gross. You know me better than that. It has nothing to do with sex. That is the one area I DON’T have problems in.”

“I’ll give you that. You were a definite A plus tonight.”

Scowling, she pulls one of the pillows out from behind her and smacks him in the face with it. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m awake now. Why you are is what I can't figure out.”

“Dreams. I told you. Weird dreams. Not necessarily nightmares, but close to it.”

“You haven’t had any of those in a long time. Why are they coming back now? ‘Cause I went away?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, and finishes the bowl of ice cream and sets it on the nightstand. “Maybe. That could be part of it, I guess.”

“Well I’m home now. There’s no reason for you to be freaked out and worried.”

“Before you go blaming yourself, it isn’t your fault. That I can’t sleep. I think it was Riley. The conversation I had with her earlier.”

“About what?”

“My crazy ass, extremely dysfunctional family.”

Sighing, he lays his hand on the side of her head and pulls her closer to him; pressing a kiss to her temple and then wrapping both arms around her and tucking her slender body into his. “Talk to me.”

“Are you sure? You normally do NOT want to talk about my family.”

“I don't,” Tyler admits. “But something is bugging and I’d rather you tell me about it than let it keep bothering you.”

She places her head against his chest; fingertips tracing the tattoo that graces his ribs. “You won’t get upset?”

“Is it something I SHOULD be upset about?”

“Not really. Maybe? I don’t know. Just to be on the safe side, promise me that you won’t get upset. That you’ll keep calm and things will stay rational. Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” he promises, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Kyle’s getting married. He sent Riley an invitation. And when she checked out mail, turns out he sent us one too.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words. 

“I mean, I know I should be happy for him. I know I shouldn’t spend my whole life holding grudges and hating him. I should be the bigger person. I have nieces and nephews out that I’ve never met and I should feel terrible about that. But I don’t. Because all I can think about is everything he did and everything he said. About us, about you. I can’t just forget about all of that. Because some of it was pretty bad. It was hurtful and it was mean and he even said things in front of our kids. How do I get over that?”

“You don’t have to, Me. He’s a shitty human being. Surrounded by equally shitty human beings. That have tormented you and treated you like shit for your entire life. You don’t have to get over that. Just because they’re your family, doesn’t mean you have to like them. Or be around them.”

“I can’t forgive OR forget. Not what he said about you. I just can’t. Because I love you and you’re my husband and the father of my kids and what he said? Those things were horrible. And they hurt. They still hurt. A hell of a lot.”

“Then why give him the time of day? Why care about what he’s doing?”

“Because I DO have nieces and nephews out there. We both do. You by marriage, but still. And those kids didn’t do anything wrong and they shouldn’t be punished because their dad is a dick. I mean, don’t you think having him as dad is punishment enough?”

“That’s a very good point, actually.”

“I’d like to meet them. I’d like our kids to meet them. But how do I do that when I can’t forgive my brother? When I still have so much hate and anger towards him?”

“Put it aside for a bit? Just long enough to get to know them? Suck it up for them? I don’t know, babe. I don’t always have all the answers. Is that what you’re worked up about? Not being able to meet the kids?”

“A little,” Esme admits. “But there’s more. And you’re going to think I’m ridiculous and petty and extra and…”

“Babe, I have an eleven year old daughter that thinks she’s sixteen. I think I know how to handle ‘extra’.”

“This is where it gets weird. And where I stop understanding it myself. Because it doesn’t make any sense and I feel like I’m losing my mind over this and I’m dwelling on it and I’m…”

He tightens his hold on her and presses a kiss to her hair. “You’re rambling. Take a breath and just tell me what’s going on, okay?”

“Is it wrong that part of me wants to go? To Kyle’s wedding? Especially after how things ended? You knocked him the fuck out in our front yard. Told him you’d kill him if he ever came near me or the kids again. So it’s wrong, right? Considering that and everything he’s said and done? Tell me that it’s weird. That I’m even considering going to his wedding.”

“It’s not weird. I mean at the heart of it, he’s still your brother. And like you said, you’ve got nieces and nephews you haven’t met. I could see wanting to go just for that.”

“But that’s not really the reason I want to go. Oh God, do you really want to hear this? Why I want to go?”

Tyler nods.

“I want to go to prove them wrong. To show them that we did last. Despite all of them saying we never would. I want to go there and show them how much we love each other and enjoy one another and how happy we are. I want them to see that they were wrong. I want to shove it in their faces that we’re good together. That we’re very good together and we have a beautiful family and a good life.”

“So you want to go all the way to Colorado just to prove them wrong?”

“Yeah, pretty much. That’s weird, right?”

“It’s not weird. It’s just...I don’t know...that’s a hell of a long way to go just for THAT. Send them one of those Christmas cards you had made. With the family picture on it and the photos of the kids. Send them that and be done with it. We don’t have to go all the way there.”

“But it won’t have the same impact as seeing as us in person will.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You want to use your brother’s wedding to prove a point?”

Esme nods.

“You’re right. That is a little ‘extra’.”

“Don't you want to prove them wrong? Do you want them to eat their words? All the times they said we wouldn’t work and we wouldn’t even get past the first year? Don’t you want them to realize how wrong they were about us? About you?”

“Me, I don’t give a fuck what your family thinks about me. Or about us. You know that. What do you care so much?”

“Because I’m petty,” she gives a small laugh. “Because I want them to realize they were wrong.”

“Even if they do realize that, even if we DO prove them wrong? What will that actually do? What do you think will happen?”

She shrugs.

“Do you think they’re going to admit it? That they were wrong?”

“Maybe…”

“Do you think they’re suddenly going to have a change of heart? That they’re going to regret what they said? About me? About us? You think proving them wrong is going to make them feel the least bit sorry for the drama they caused?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe? Maybe I do think that."

“Esme, they are never going to admit they were wrong. That will never happen. You want to know why? Because they don’t give a shit. They’re horrible people. That spent years treating you like crap. And they got worse when I came around and realized that they couldn’t control you anymore. That I’d stick up for you no matter what. You know how much worse they got. They will never admit they were wrong. And they sure as hell will never apologize to you.”

Sighing heavily, she lightly scrapes her fingernails along his collarbone.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I do. You’d never hurt me. Not intentionally. And you’re the one making sense. Because I’m sure as hell not.”

“They’re not going to say ‘sorry’, babe. That’ll never happen. They don’t have it in them. They don’t have the balls to do it. They’re toxic as fuck and they will always be toxic as fuck. You will never get what you want. I know how bad you want that; them apologizing to you. But it’ll never happen. And if you just want to go because of THAT? Because you think they’ll feel guilt and regret and say sorry? Then I’m not okay with it. I won’t go and I won’t let you go. Not that you need my permission. But…”

“I know I don’t. But I want you to be okay with it. If you don’t go and I decide to go, I at least want to know you’re fine with it. That you don’t think I’m betraying you in some way.”

“First, I would NEVER think that. Or see it that way, Second? I’m not okay with it Esme. And not because of the shit they’ve said about me. But because of the things they’ve said about you. About our kids. I’m not okay with you being around them. I’m just not. They’ve spent your whole life treating you like shit. You got away from it. Why go back to it?

“I guess I hold grudges for longer than I like to admit. I guess I’m petty and immature and stupid and…”

“You’re not. You’re not any of those things. I’m not okay with you going there. Not if you’re going for the wrong reason. I know you want to prove them wrong. I totally get it and I don’t blame you. But I know you’re not going to get what you want. They are never going to apologize to you. And when it doesn’t happen? That’s going to hurt like hell. And I don’t want that for you. Haven’t they hurt you enough?”

She nods.

“I know how painful it is, okay? Wanting to hear ‘I’m sorry’ from someone. You know how long I waited for that? From my old man? And even at the very end...when I told him what I wanted...he just laughed at me. Like he used to do when I was a kid and I’d cry about my mum. He never changed. And I never got what I wanted. I have to live with that. For the rest of my life. I don’t want you living with that, too.”

Sighing heavily, she raises her head from his chest and gives a small, tearful smile before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I just want to protect you. That’s all I want to do. I don’t want you going through what I did. And most importantly? I don’t want them hurting you anymore. I don’t want ANYONE hurting you.”

“You’re a good man, Tyler Rake,” she declares, as she pushes a hand through his hair. “A very good man.”

“But, if you want to go for the right reasons? We’ll go. If you just want to go to the wedding to try and bury the hatchet and meet your nieces and nephews? I’m good with that. But I’m not good with going if you expect anything from them. I’m just not. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll need to think about it. About what I really want.”

“Well, we’ve got time, yeah? I’m sure we don’t have to let them know right away. Let’s just enjoy Christmas. With our kids. Let’s get through the three weeks here and then worry about everything else when we get back home. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” she says, and once more rests her head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” He places a kiss to her brow and repeatedly up and down her back. “More than you could ever understand. And I just want to protect you.”

“I know you do. And I love you for that. For so many things.”

“You’ll figure out,” he promises, and rests his chin on the top of her head. “And if you don’t, then we’ll worry about it like we always worry about shit. Together.”


	10. A Winter's Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to my dear, beautiful friend Mel who keeps me writing when I'm reading to give up! Love you so much! Thank you for always supporting me and encouraging me!
> 
> WARNING: SMUT in the first section

She wakes to the pressure of strong hands upon delicate flesh. Rough calluses and weathered skin cause her entire body to tremble and lock up in anticipation, and she offers no resistance when her thighs are gently parted. The sensations are familiar yet always intense; the scrape of beard, the warm breath and moist lips, the slickness of tongue and nip of teeth. The actions well rehearsed, and methodical; carried out by someone with years of intimate knowledge of her body and all of her wants and needs. Knowing exactly what to do and when; easily coaxing out the goosebumps that invade her flesh and causing her breath to hitch and her body to both shudder and arch off the bed. The latter causes a heavy, muscular forearm to be placed across her stomach; effectively holding her in place as both mouth and a very steady and expert hand continue both exploration and torment. Her eyes never open; entire body shivering when fingertips graze along the inside of her thigh and around to the back of her knee. The caresses feathery and repetitive; teeth skimming over sensitive flesh and biting and suckling on the areas known to bring the quickest -and biggest- reactions. It’s been twelve years of this; slow and patient at times, desperate and needy at others, sometimes rough and bruising. Yet no two experiences ever seem the same; pleasure and need heightened by the thought of someone knowing her -and her body- that well. The realization that she is both worshipped and loved to such a staggering and often mind blowing extent; someone who has never grown tired of her or the familiarity of their lives together. Who still finds her the most beautiful woman on earth; never failing to express it through words and touch.

A long, content sigh escapes her lips as warm breath tickles her skin; a mixture of lips and teeth and tongue that trail a path across her pubic bone. The forearm remains stretched across her stomach; hand splayed and the fingers kneading and massaging and tracing slow and agonizing circles around her navel. It’s so many sensations for her still awakening system to bear, and she writhes against the mattress when two fingers gently open up the already moist lips of her pussy; whimpering when the tip of a tongue flicks against her clit. Her skin feels as it’s on fire; nerve endings on high alert despite the exhaustion that still clouds her brain. And her head tips back as desperate and needy hands grab at the head buried between her legs. Fingers tangling in thick, dirty blond tresses, yanking and pulling as the actions of his mouth become more aggressive; fingers now easily slipping inside of her as he alternates between suckling and gentle nibbling. And when those long yet surprisingly nimble digits curve forward and find that spot she once thought to be a myth, it all becomes too much to take, her body succumbing to the intense pleasure. One hand still gripping his hair and the other blindly scrambling for the pillow that rests under her head; placing it over her face in an attempt to stifle the noises that erupt from her mouth as the orgasm hits hard and fast.

The smile on her face is one of complete satisfaction and contentment, and her eyes remain closed as she reaches for him; palms sliding across broad shoulders as he kisses a slow path up her body. Tracing and exploring the muscles in his back before moving to his arms; loving the ripples and bulges as he bears his weight on his palms. One hand tangling in his hair and the nails of the other digging into a tricep as he leans down to cover her mouth with his. His lips and tongue still bearing her juices; slick and hot and sweet. And she softly giggles when he wraps an arm around her waist and effortlessly lifts her from the confines of wrinkled sheets. His face cradled in her hands as the kiss deepens, rough palms sliding along the backs of her thighs and onto her ass ; tightly gripping as he sits back on his heels and easily settles her on his thighs. Her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles lock at the small of his back, and a low, guttural groan erupts from deep within his chest when his hardened length slides through the warmth and the slick that coats her pussy; entire body shuddering when the engorged tip makes brief contact with her opening before he fully sheathes himself inside of her.

It’s a coupling that lacks the usual aggression and urgency; the palms planted firmly on her hips in total control of both movement and pace. The exchange of feathery pecks accompanied by long and meaningful gazes. Interspersed with moments of more passion; the slide of closed mouth upon closed mouth and tongues battling for dominance. No words are spoken; replaced with soft sighs and moans and whimpers of pleasure. Pulling back to look at him, her eyes momentarily lock on his before exploring his face; cheeks once more resting in her hands, both thumbs sliding across his lips before her knuckles graze along his jawline. When she kisses him it’s slow and soft and sweet; one hand pushing into his hair and the other tightly gripping the back of his neck. And when her teeth capture his bottom lip and she gives a devilish grin, all his resolve disappears; a hand moving up to grip the back of her head and the fingers of the other digging into the soft flesh of her ass with enough force to bruise the skin. Both the movements and the kiss become more savage; hungry and desperate as he chases his own release and coaxes her towards her own. Wincing when she yanks at his hair and nips at his bottom lip and then drops her face into the nook between his neck and shoulder; nails raking down his back and over his ribs, her hips both pressing down against him and grinding with a ferocity she hasn’t exhibited in a long time. And his hand moves from the back of her head and slides between them; the tips of two fingers pressing firmly against her clit and effortlessly bringing her to her second orgasm. Feeling her entire body draw tight and shudder and hearing her gasp; a groan erupting from his lips when she bites down on his trap muscle in an effort to stifle the noises that tumble from her mouth. Both hands find her hips now, painfully gripping them as his thrusts become harder and deeper; using her body as nothing more than an object for his wants and his needs. His forehead dropping against her chest when he achieves his own release; her name and a litany of profanities leaving his lips in harsh whispers. 

For several long minutes neither move; eyes closed and their limbs sweaty and trembling as they cling to one another in the aftermath. When he finally pulls away, his smile is soft and adoring as his eyes sweep over her glowing and glistening face; hands pushing wayward strands of hair off her brow and behind her ears. And her eyes flicker open and her own smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, fingers moving through his own damp tresses as she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and then his lips. That little shriek and musical giggle erupting from her when he collapses onto his back, both arms encircling her waist and pulling her body down on top of his.

*****

They doze. The heavy, down filled comforter pulled over their bodies and both of his arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her as her body rests upon his. It’s a quiet and lazy winter morning; the house quiet and warm while strong winds, snow squalls, and bitter temperatures thrive beyond walls and windows. It’s a welcome relief; seven children sleeping in well past their normal waking hours, no prior commitments, no errands that need to be urgently and immediately tended to. Anything that has to be done can wait; many hours left in the day and no work related tasks on schedule. He’s officially ‘on vacation’; three weeks of not answering job related calls and entrusting the easier and non essential aspects of the business to Koen who has grown accustomed to acting as a ‘field manager’ when Tyler steps back in favour of devoting time to his family. If anything impossible or urgent comes up he’ll have to deal with it; payroll issues or unhappy clients or pressing issues that clients need handled ASAP. 

The latter very rarely happens; only once in five years has he had to cut Christmas vacation short in order to work. Most of their clients respect his need for ‘domestic time; a chance to put his family first and foremost and live a somewhat normal and mundane life. It keeps him sane; giving his mental health a much needed break from the mercenary life and allowing his brain to focus on nothing more than being a husband and father. It’s made him more successful as a boss; knowing when he needs to step back and take time out to re-evaluate the more important things in life. And it makes home life much happier; the kids thriving and his marriage flourishing when he’s able to commit more of himself and give them all his undivided attention. Before the job had controlled everything; his mind unable to focus on anything BUT work. And it taken a harsh wake up call to realize just how bad that way of life was fucking everything up; coming extremely close to ruining his marriage and damaging his relationship with his children. It’s an existence he doesn’t even like to consider; his marriage decimated and his role as a father reduced to court ordered visitation as opposed to seeing his kids every day. It took an ultimatum to finally get through him. She had finally reached her breaking point and had given him the only two options: the job or his family. 

It had been a clear and easy choice.

Esme stirs against him. Issuing a long sigh and stretching languorously; nestling the tip of her nose against the side of his throat and then pressing a series of soft kisses along his jaw. He uses his hands to smooth down her wild and messy bed head, then pushes them through the dark tresses; slowly combing out any knots and matted areas. Gently moving some of the thick locks away from the side of her face and over her shoulder; fingertips tracing the outer edge of her ear and then trailing across her cheek. Smiling when her eyes flicker open and she slides her body further up his; her hands on the side of his face as she kisses him.

Cupping the back of her head, he kisses her in return. Slow and languid; enjoying the scrape of her nails as she drags them along his jaw. “Good morning.”

Her smile is soft and sleepy; the sparkle in her eyes one of pure contentment. “Good morning. That was one heck of a way to wake a girl up.”

Tyler grins. “Isn’t that your favorite way? The good old Aussie kiss?”

“It definitely is. And it never gets old. Who needs an alarm clock when you get woken up like THAT?”

“Think you can handle getting woken up like that every morning for the next...I don’t know...forty years?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If you have it in you. What happens if you hit sixty and you lose all your ambition and interest?”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Seventy?”

He shakes his head.

“Eighty? Or are you going to be one of those old guys popping bottles of Viagra and chasing around the little old ladies at the nursing home?”

“The only little old lady I’ll be chasing around is you. And if I ever need to take that stuff, you have permission to shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery.”

“And we wonder where Millie and Brookie get their dramatics from? It’s not the end of the world, you know. If you ever DO need to use that stuff.”

“Yes. Yes it is. I don’t want to live anymore if I can’t get it up. How many times have I told you this?”

“How many times have I told YOU that there would be nothing to be embarrassed about?. It happens. It’s part of life. I won’t hold it against you if you suddenly CAN’T...perform.”

“Seriously, kill me if that ever happens. Just put a bullet in my brain. I will lose all reason to live.”

“Yes, because being able to get it up is the most important thing in the world. You’re not a man if you can’t. In your mind, anyway.”

“How do I know you won’t be disappointed and go and hook up with some old fella that still can’t get things done?”

“Because I love you and your worth and your role in my life is not dependent on whether or not you can pitch a tent. I mean, it’s definitely a bonus. But if it comes down to it…”

“So you’re still going to love me when I’m eighty and I can’t see properly and my hearing is gone and I’m grumpy and miserable as fuck?”

“Bold of you to assume you’re not all those things already.”

He smirks. “Smart ass.”

“I will love you to my dying day. Well, that ALSO depends.”

“On what?”

“If you stay totally hot and bad ass. I do have SOME standards.”

“I don’t know how bad ass I’ll be at eighty, but…”

“I see your ego is getting healthier. I notice you didn’t say anything about losing your looks. What about when I’M old and gray and wrinkled up? Are you still going to love me? And before you answer with some asshole comment about the ‘snow on my roof’ and the bags under my eyes and my stretch marks and crow’s feet, just remember that I will punish you in the worst way possible. It’ll hurt me just as much, but I’m not afraid to do it. So tread lightly, husband.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about ANY of that. You know I don’t give a shit about that stuff.”

“But you see it though. That stuff.”

“Of course I SEE it. Just not in the negative way you do. I’ve never seen you the way you see yourself. Which, may I add, is really fucking tiresome after twelve and half years. I love you, but you need to knock that shit off; talking down on yourself all the time.”

“It’s hard not to. A lifetime with my mother and a few years with Mark?”

“Who you haven’t been with in fifteen years,” Tyler points out. “And I’m not exactly on the same operating system as he is, so…”

“It’s a work in progress. Just like your lingering toxic masculinity issues. God, we really are messes aren’t we.”

“Not nearly as bad as we were. And going back to your original question? About whether I’m still going to love you when you’re eighty and old and gray? I’m always going to love you, Me. Doesn’t matter how old you get or what you look like. You’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Damn it,” she huffs, and pouts dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to just learn how to deal with you.”

“You do pretty good. For the most part.”

“It’s such a hard life. Being loved on all the time and spoiled to death and treated like a Queen.”

“If you want to get technical, Millie is the Queen. You’re the Queen Mother.”

“Well the Queen Mother finds this existence is so trying and difficult. Being married to someone that looks like you? It’s unfair. Especially when the Queen Mother looks like the dog’s breakfast after seven children.”

“You know what?” He wraps an arm around her waist, and she shrieks and then laughs when he flips her over onto her back; both palms planting on the mattress as he supports his weight on outstretched arms. “The Queen Mother shit talks herself way too much.”

“Well she feels like a mess. And not a hot one.”

“But the only person that matters thinks you ARE hot. And that should be enough. Shouldn’t it? Who else matters? Whose bed are you in every night? Who gets a woody if you so much as look at him a certain way?”

“That…” she slowly drags her fingernails along his arms, beginning at his wrists and ending at his shoulders. “...is a very valid point. Maybe you’re just very easy please. Maybe you’d be raring to go if there was a stiff breeze in the room.”

“Or maybe, I find you fucking hot and extremely sexy and you turn me on. Without having to do much. You think you’d be flattered. That you get that kind of reaction. No one’s gotten that kind...rise...out of me that easily.”

“Is it wrong that it turns me on? Knowing how much I turn YOU on?”

“Nothing wrong with that at all.”

“Good.” Curling a finger around the chain that dangles around his neck, she pulls him down into a kiss, laughing when he falls over onto his side and brings her much smaller, lighter body with him. Letting loose a long, soft sigh when he presses a series of kisses along her jaw and the side of her neck; callused fingers drifting down her spine and then back up again. 

He clears hair away from the sides of her face and places a kiss on her brow. “Sleep better? The second time around?”

“I did.” She drapes a leg over his and runs her palm over his ribs. “You know how you always try to shy away from helping TOO much? Saying you don’t have all the answers? Well, maybe you don’t, but the ones you DO have are always right. They’re always the ones that I need to hear.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.. Saying what I did about your family. Bringing up how they treat you. How they’ve ALWAYS treated you.”

“I know you weren’t. I needed to hear it. I needed to be reminded about why I DID cut them out of my life. Our lives.”

“But…”

“But I still don’t know what to do. When it comes to Kyle’s wedding. But you were right; I WAS wanting to go because I was hoping they’d feel bad about how they treated us. I wanted them to see how happy we are and how strong we’ve become and I was hoping they’d feel even a slight bit of remorse. I was hoping they’d have guilty consciences and admit they were wrong and say they were sorry.”

“They’re not capable of being sorry for anything. They don’t give a fuck about you. How many times have they made that clear?”

“In just the past five years alone or are we talking the last forty one?”

“I don’t want you going if you’re expecting that from them. Because you’re only going to get hurt. And that’s the last thing I want happening.”

“I know. And I love you so much. For protecting me like you do. And I know I used to bitch and moan about it and complain you were overbearing, but I know your heart is always in the right place. You’re the only one who really DOES care. The only one I really can trust. And I’m sorry. That you had to go through that. With your dad. I know what you wanted from him and I know you tried getting it and…”

“That was two years ago, babe. A lot’s changed in two years.”

“...I know it still hurts you. That even up to the bitter end he wouldn’t acknowledge what he did to you and wouldn’t apologize for it. I didn’t want that for you, either. Being hurt like that. And I’m sorry I even encouraged it. You seeking that from him. I should have tried to talk you out of it, not convinced you to do it. Better yet, I should have just kept my mouth shut altogether.”

“It’s not your fault, Me. I guess we both overestimated him.”

“I guess so. But it hurts. Knowing you hurt. And if I could take that away, I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. But it’s not that bad. Not anymore.”

“But it’s still there.”

He nods.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. That he couldn’t give that to you. You deserved it. You were OWED that. An apology. Or at the very least an acknowledgment of how badly he screwed you up. And for him to react the way he did? I’m so sorry you went through that. That you’re still going through it. It’s getting better though, right? You don’t feel AS bad?”

“It’s a lot better. One day it won’t bother me at all.”

“He didn’t deserve you. And he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. Whether you meant it or not when you gave it to him, he didn’t deserve to hear it. Did you mean it?”

“Some days I think I did. Other days…” he shrugs. “...other days I think I was lying more to myself than him.”

“You’re a way better and bigger man that he could have ever hoped to be. He never broke you. Everything he did and everything he said while you were growing up, you could have so easily gone a different direction. But you didn’t. And if you ask me, getting yourself straightened out and having a new life and a family and people who love you? That’s the best revenge you could have ever hoped for. Because he saw that he never destroyed you. No matter how hard he tried.”

“He almost did, though. Look how close I came. To ending it. Had I NOT met you that day…”

“But you did. And I can’t take all the credit. You had to be ready to change or you wouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have mattered what I said or did. If you hadn’t have wanted things to be different, you wouldn’t have let me get that close. And THAT’S bravery. You ARE brave. You always have been. You’re the strongest person I know. A weak man never would have taken that risk. But you did. You were ready. You just needed someone to encourage it. It just so happened to me.”

“Lucky you, huh? Of all the women in the world…”

“I happen to think I’m very lucky. You’re a good man, Tyler. With a huge heart. You love so hard and so deep. Even twelve years ago I saw that in you. It was in your eyes. In your voice. You were different. Than anyone I’d ever met through the job. You still had so much compassion and patience and humanity in you. You just needed someone to remind you that you were still alive.”

“Guess I’m pretty damn lucky. That you went along with Nik’s crazy idea.”

She laughs. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it? I thought she was insane when she brought up the idea. I don’t even know why I agreed to it. It seemed pretty far fetched.”

“It was a little...weird.”

“The look on your face when she brought up the whole marriage thing? You were NOT impressed.”

“It was nothing personal against you. It was just fucked up. The whole plan. I didn’t see how it would work. Who in their right mind would believe someone like you would be married to someone like me?”

“You think way too highly of me.”

“You don’t think highly enough of yourself.”

“As weird as it was, we did make it work. I mean, the first day in Dhaka was a little...rough.”

“We could have avoided the drama if you had just listened to me. When I told you what NOT to do.”

“You started the drama when you told me you liked to smell my hair.”

“Okay, that is NOT what I said. I said I wanted you to stay close to me. So close to me that I COULD smell your hair. That’s what I said.”

“That’s NOT how it sounded. You made yourself sound like a creepy hair sniffer.”

“You still should have listened to me. But nope. You had to be little Miss Independent at the wrong possible time and go off on your own and…”

“I was fine. I was like ten feet away.”

“More like fifty.”

“You were close enough that if I got into trouble, you would have been able to take care of things. I wasn’t worried. I knew I was in good hands. I also knew I wanted to be in those hands in an entirely different way.”

“You so should have called me for that booty call. That night after we met at my place.”

“Would you have really showed up?”

“Fuck yeah. I hadn’t been laid in months. Some little hottie is calling me for no strings attached sex? I would have been insane not to.”

“So if you were more than willing to get naked with me, then why didn’t you kiss me that one night?”

“What night?”

“At the hotel. Where we were all staying. Outside of the city limits. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that night.”

“I remember that night very well. You asked me if I wanted to join you. In your room.”

“You originally said yes. You got my hopes up. Right at the door. And then you get the chance to kiss me and what do you do? You shoot me down.”

“I didn’t shoot you down. That’s not what I did.”

“What do you call it then? You were more than ready to get naked with me. You knew that’s what I was inviting you in for. You can’t say you didn’t know.”

“I knew what you wanted. I wanted it too.”

“So what happened? We were both ready, willing, and able and you get the chance to kiss me and…”

“I guess I realized how drunk you actually were and I changed my mind. I didn’t want to take advantage of that.”

“You knew I was loaded. You were the one drinking with me all night. How could you NOT realize how drunk I was? You were sitting beside me at the table.”

“Guess I just didn’t want it to happen that way. I wanted you to remember how good I dicked you down.”

“I would have remembered THAT. ‘Fess up. What’s the real reason?”

“What does it matter? It was more than twelve years ago. Why…?”

“I remember what you said. When you bailed out of kissing me. You said ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you’. That is exactly what you said to me.”

“Actually, I said I was sorry first. Wow, considering how drunk you were, I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never brought it up. In twelve years.”

“I guess I didn’t think it mattered anymore. We ended up fucking in the end. For five days. And then we turned around and got married and had kids. Seven of them. What does it matter what I said back then?”

“Do you want to hear my theory?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“I think you were already having the feels for me. And you’d spent so long closing yourself off to having actual feelings and to actually being a properly functioning human being, that feeling something towards me scared you.”

“That’s...interesting.”

“And it wasn’t sexual feelings. You were still capable of feeling THOSE. I mean, you had women in every damn port you visited, practically. I’m talking legit feelings. Outside of sex. You had the feels and it freaked you out. Because you saw yourself as a huge mess. All you could think about was the mistakes you’d made and all your bad decisions and your problems with drinking and the meds. You saw yourself as broken. And you thought that your past and the job made you some kind of monster. And you didn’t want to take the chance that I was having feels for you too.”

He grins.”You’re good.”

“You were worried that we’d both start feeling things for each other and that you’d somehow disappoint me or I’d somehow think less of you. You were worried about being a disappointment. That you’d screw up in some way and you’d run and you’d hurt me.”

“Have you been thinking about this for the last TWELVE years?”

“I came up with it pretty much right away. After I called Riley after you shot me down. Her theory is that you bailed on me because you were gay.”

He chuckles. “What?”

“She said the only reason you’d turn down sex with me was because you weren’t into women.”

“I think I’ve proven I am.”

“I tried explaining my theory to her, but she didn’t get it. Was I close? My theory? How close was it? Pretty close right?”

“You’re pretty spot on, actually.”

“I knew it! I knew you wanted to. I FELT how much you wanted to. It definitely wasn’t about me. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t. It’s not that you weren’t attracted to me, it’s because you were. And not just sexually.”

“You know, you are way too smart for your own good.”

“So what changed? In the twenty four hours between that night and when we actually did bang in Dhaka?”

“I may have talked. About you. To someone.”

“Oh no…”

“All good, I swear. And he basically told me to yank my head out of my ass and let myself be happy. To just give in to what I was feeling and worry about everything else after.”

“You actually talked about me? To someone on the team?”

“I did,” Tyler admits.

“You? My husband that barely talks to anyone, talked to someone about me? About turning me down for sex?”

“I didn’t mention THAT. I just mentioned that I was feeling things. For you. That I thought I liked you and I thought you might be into me. And he said to just go with it. See where it ends up. So I did.”

“I highly doubt he told you to try and choke me out.”

“Well, that was all me. Being a chicken shit. Trying to scare you off. Kinda backfired, huh?”

Esme nods. “Just a little. But it made the sex off the charts though. That? That was off the hook. As far first time sex with a new partner goes, that was unchartered territory.”

“I figured go big or go home. You were into it.”

“I was,” she giggles, and pecks his lips. “I was so into it. A little scared at first when I saw what I was up against. You know, appendage wise. I honestly did think you’d break me half. I mean, I WANTED you to. Figuratively speaking. And boy, did you ever.”

“I was surprised. What a little thing like you could take. I was pretty impressed by you. You were still only a B plus though.”

“You’re a dick. I was way more than a B plus. Your grading system is all wrong. Who was it? That you talked to? I know it wasn’t Nik. She would have talked you out of it, not into it.”

“Doesn’t matter who it was.”

“It was G, wasn’t it.”

“Maybe…”

“THAT’S why he brought it up. When we were waiting in the forest. Why he randomly started asking me questions about you. Why he was talking you up so much. He KNEW. About me. It all makes total sense now. I can’t believe you’ve never told me this. In twelve years.”

“I do have my secrets. Not many, but I do have them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you for listening to him. Probably the best advice you ever took.”

“In my entire life,” he confirms, then lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into a kiss. “You know what I think we should do?”

“Is it X rated?”

“Sorry. I need fuel in the tank if you want anything past an R rating. I think we should take advantage of the kids being asleep. Go downstairs. Have breakfast together. Hang out. Enjoy the quiet. Before all hell breaks loose. Sound good?”

“Sounds very good. We don’t get that very often. A quiet morning when the kids are home.”

“The last time we had a quiet morning was before Millie came along. So that’s a hell of a long time ago. I’ll make you breakfast?”

“Blueberry pancakes?” she inquires hopefully.

“Just for you, Me.”

“Such a good husband,” she praises, and kisses him once more. “I have to pee. I’ll meet you downstairs. Will you make me tea?”

“You know I will.”

“You know…” she pushes a hand through his hair, eyes full of love and adoration as they sweep over his face. “...domestic life looks good on you.”

*****

“I almost forgot!” Esme rushes into the kitchen; a long cardboard box cradled in her arms that she drops on the island. “I have something to show you!”

While normally an extremely personable and bubbly person, there’s something ‘extra’ about her in the days leading up to Christmas; an enthusiasm and brightness that comes from even the simplicities of decorating the house and crossing items off the kids’ Santa lists and the stuffing of stockings. Her own Christmases had left a lot to be desired; never the favourite of her mother -even before her father’s untimely demise- and always made to feel like an outsider in her own family. There’s a childlike exuberance that she harbours; loving and thriving on the idea of being able to create her own memories and traditions, determined to make the holidays a lot more memorable for her own children. It’s both adorable and refreshing to witness. The way her eyes sparkle and her entire face lights up with pure excitement and how genuinely pleased she is with herself when the kids are lost in the magic she’s been able to create for them. How she giggles and gets flustered -that familiar blush that begins at her cheeks and spreads all the way to the tops of her ears- when she receives presents of her own to open; her surprise and contentment so genuine and pure. 

It hasn’t been an easy life for her. A relatively miserable childhood followed by lonelier and more troubled teenage years. The loss of her father and an abusive first marriage. The disastrous job in Dhaka and the fight to survive on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. More than a decade of being married to a ‘hired gun’ and having to go through some extremely painful and worrisome times. But she’s somehow managed to hold onto some of the lightness; smiling and laughing easily and loving with every fibre of being and finding even the smallest of joys in life. She IS sunshine; an incredible -and surprisingly tough- little creature that could have allowed life to break her but has only grown stronger and more beautiful. 

“You’re going to show me right here? In the kitchen? Where we eat?” He teases, and sets a steaming mug of tea down on the island; rubbing his palm up and down her back before settling it on her hip and leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

Since the birth of sixth and seven and her fortieth birthday, she often complains about her appearance; lamenting the gray in her hair and the extra weight she’s put on and never managed to lose, and the stretch marks from her pregnancies that have never gone away. And while he does notice those things, they aren’t bothersome to him. He doesn’t think about them and certainly doesn’t consider them flaws. In his mind, eyes, and heart, she’s still the most stunning woman in the world; her body shapely and familiar yet never failing to both intrigue and entice. She’s carried seven babies inside of her. HIS babies. Selflessly giving up her body to grow his children. And there’s nothing more beautiful than THAT.

She rolls her eyes. “ Haven’t you had enough? It’s been like five times in two days.”

“Seven, actually. Well, six and a half. The last one doesn’t count as a full go. Only you got off.”

“You’re so generous. Consider it making up for the time you had the goddamn gall to talk me into drunk sex. Only to be the only one satisfied and pass out on me. Literally. On top of me.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.”

“Never. I will hold that over your head until your dying day. In fact, I may bring it up during your eulogy. In the meantime. Want to see? What arrived? I ordered them back home and had them delivered here. Wanna see?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” she chirps, and begins peeling back the flaps on the box. “Wait…” she pauses. “...for background sake, do you remember how you’ve been promising me every Christmas since we had more than one kid that you’d wear the matching pyjamas I order?”

“Please tell me those aren’t…”

“Have you not been promising me that since the two T’s came along?”

“I have.”

“And have you not bailed on me every year? Have you not decided to only wear the bottoms? I distinctly remember you wearing just the pants. Every Christmas. You always change your mind and wear a t-shirt instead of the matching shirt. Right?”

“Right. But…”

“No. No ‘buts’. You said you’d wear the pyjamas this year. To finally shut me up and help fulfill my dream of having a Christmas photo that shows all nine of us in matching jammies. Did you not promise that? That you’d wear them this year? Finally?”

“I did.”

“Well, they arrived. Our family jammies. And they’re so cute. The cutest YET.”

“I don’t think you realize that calling them ‘cute’ is NOT getting me on your side.”

“You promised. I’m holding you to it. I will not hear any excuses. All our kids still believe in Santa. Or at the very least, TJ and Millie are pretending they do to keep the magic alive for everyone else. And Millie is going to be almost a teenager next Christmas and it will be a nightmare getting her to cooperate. So this is it. Our last chance. So you don’t get to bail. Sorry.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I won’t disagree with that. I AM very lucky. Do you want to see them?”

“What color are they?”

“They’re plaid. Red, black, and white.”

“That’s a step up from the ones last year. With the penguins on them. I can do plaid.”

“And they’ve got bears on them. Well, one bear. Right here,” she jabs a finger into the front of his left shoulder. “So no patterns or anything crazy like that. Just plaid. And one bear.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me. It’s all too...simple...for you.”

“There is a catch.”

“Oh God…”

“See, I knew you’d try and find a way to get out of it. I knew you’d attempt to bail and you’d end up wearing just the bottoms again. So, I found a way you can’t escape it.”

His eyes narrow. “Esme, what have you done?”

She gives a happy little squeal and reaches into the box; pulling out one of the pyjamas and holding it out for him to see. “They’re onesies.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did! You can’t get out of it now. It’s all attached. You can’t just wear the pants this time. And look at this...look at the best part…” she turns the garment around. “...bum flaps!”

“Jesus...Christ…”

“Isn’t that adorable?! I couldn’t resist when I saw them. Bum flaps! How perfect are they?”

“Perfect is not the word that comes to mind. You are NOT making me wear that.”

“I am. Because you promised. And you hate disappointing me. Besides, you like plaid.”

“Yeah, like plaid shirts and those hunting jackets I used to have in Colorado. Not plaid onesie pyjamas. That’s a little...fucked.”

“They’re cute. They’re manly looking.”

“They have an ass flap.”

“So? Way back when, lumberjacks and pioneer men had to wear things with bum flaps. So they could go out to the outhouse in the cold. It made things easier. To have bum flaps.”

“We are not lumberjacks or pioneers and we have running water and toilets that flush.”

“Look, you promised me that this year you would finally go through with it. This is our last chance. To have this kind of moment when all the kids still believe in Santa. Or at least pretend they do. Chances are Millie and TJ will NOT want to do this type of thing next year. You said you would do it, and I’m holding you to it. It’ll be a great family Christmas picture.”

“I’ll do it. But I have one stipulation.”

“Okay…”

“You do NOT use that picture for next year’s Christmas card. I will wear the pyjamas, but there will be no photographic proof of it. At least not spread around our family and friends.”

“You mean I can’t even post it on facebook? Or instagram?”

“I’ll take a picture of you and the kids and you can post THAT. You’re not taking one of me wearing that.”

Sighing heavily, she gives a dramatic pout.

“That’s the rules, babe. I’ll do it. If you agree to the rules.”

“Fine. I will not post any pictures of you wearing it. You just pose for the one family picture for me to have for myself and then you can change. But you owe me. I deserve something for the sacrifice I’m making.”

He grins. “I think I can think of something.”

“You already give me things like THAT. I want to go to Santorini. For our April trip. I know you normally pick where we go in April, but that’s where I want to go. It’s beautiful and it’s scenic and Nik already gave me the name of the hotel that is crazy romantic. Do we have a deal?”

“Is there golfing there?”

“You don’t even like to golf! And you suck at it. I’ve never seen anyone hit the ball THAT hard and have it totally slice and come back on them.”

“What about surfing?”

“Actually, there’s very beautiful beaches. And if you agree on Santorini, I’ll let you go surfing when we’re there. As much as you want. I won’t even complain if you bail on sexy time to go surfing.”

“Okay, let’s not pretend THAT’S going to happen. Sexy time is a little more enjoyable than surfing.”

“Just a little more?”

Grinning, he holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a bit.”

“Even more enjoyable than surfing with Kelly Slater?”

“That’s never going to happen, but yes. I would pick sexy time with you over surfing with him.”

Esme laughs. “Bullshit you would. And you know what, I would let you go surfing with your idol. I would let you bail on sexy time just for that. That’s how much I love you. Do we have a deal? I’ll give up posting pictures of you in your onesie if you agree that we go to Santorini.”

“I think that’s a fair deal.”

“Can we kiss on it? Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“Just a kiss? Nothing else?”

“Our kids are going to be up very shortly. A kiss will have to do.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll take one for the team.” 

“Your life is so hard,” she chides, and stands on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss her. Body curving into his as his hand slides from hip to the small of her back; laughing and squealing when he brings the palm of his hand against her ass in a ringing slap, followed by a tight squeeze. “What did I say? About spanking? It hurts!”

“You like it.”

“Normally. But you hit extra hard sometimes. You don’t know your own strength. You have to admit…” she holds one of the pyjamas to her chest. “...they ARE cute.”

“Where the hell did my life go wrong? How did I go from killing two people with a garden rake to wearing onesie pyjamas?”

“Onesie jammies WITH a bum flap.”

“You realize that the whole bum flap thing does NOT make this better, right?”

“Where is your sense of adventure? What happened to your ‘I’ll do anything to make you happy’?”

“I DO have to draw the line somewhere.”

“And as far as killing people and kicking ass and all that, you still are more than capable of doing that stuff. But you’re also capable of being a fully functional normal adult.” She tosses the garment into the box and makes air quotes around the word normal. “You are both bad ass and domesticated. Two very distinct and different sides. You’ve got boss man Tyler, and you’ve got husband and daddy Tyler. And I happen to love them both.”

“You just like that I wear normal clothes when I’m on Zoom meetings.”

“Honestly, I am very much enjoying the normal pants and dress shirts. It’s a very sexy look on you. But, if I’m being totally honest, I do prefer the whole shirtless, shorts practically falling off thing. I’ve grown accustomed to it. That’s how I see you. That’s how I see MY Tyler. And FYI, it adds a certain...allure...when you add a backwards baseball cap.”

“Point taken. I am committing that last part to memory.”

“And my second fave? Jeans and a white t-shirt. That does funny things to my insides.”

“Funny things, huh?” Curling an arm around her waist, he places his palm on one cheek of her ass and draws her into him; eyes sparkling mischievously as he grins down at her. “What kind of funny things?”

“You know very well what kind of funny things. You’re not a rookie. You’re not some amateur. You know what you do to my insides.”

“Other than wrecking them, you mean?”’

“You’re disgusting!”

“Like Riley says, it’s a shock I haven’t broken ya in half yet.”

“You’re gross!” She attempts to shove him away, then gives a yelp when both hands firmly grip her ass hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Admit it. You like it when I wreck your insides.”

“I’m not going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. You let me know you’re enjoying it. I’ve had the scratches and the bite marks as proof.”

“Your back is actually pretty torn up right now. Sorry. You might want to keep a shirt on. So the kids don’t start asking questions. And speaking of bite marks? Have you seen the inside of my right thigh?”

“I got a little...carried away.”

“A little? A forensic scientist could take an impression off of it and make a perfect model of your teeth. You’re dirty.”

“I’m only as dirty as you allow me to be.”

She grins. “That’s a very good point.”

“You’re shockingly perverted for someone who is so small and looks so innocent.”

“Are you complaining? Is that a complaint?”

“It’s blind admiration, baby. No complaints here.”

“I didn’t think so.” Returning to her tiptoes, she curls her arms around his neck as he kisses her once more. Long and soft; his hands alternating between stroking the small of her back and kneading the cheeks of her ass.

“Ughhhh…” Millie makes a dramatic gagging noise as she pads into the kitchen; clad in a pair of Snoopy themed pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt miles too big on her long and slender frame, long blond hair a wild and tangled mess. “...do you guys HAVE to? I have a friend here. Alannah doesn’t deserve this kind of torture.”

“I don’t mind,” the friend in question speaks up. “It’s nice. Your parents actually love each other. Mine? They act like they don’t even know one other. You know how long it’s been since they’ve had a conversation that’s lasted more than thirty seconds? Never mind how long it’s been since they’ve slept in the same room?”

“Well apparently my parents SHOULD sleep in a different room. Hello! I have six brothers and sisters.”

“And I have none. Consider yourself lucky.”

“One day, you’ll find someone that you want to kiss and cuddle all the time,” Esme informs her daughter, then moves to the coffee bar to refill her mug of tea. 

“I highly doubt it, mum. Boys are gross. I mean, you’re okay, dad. For a guy. No offense.”

“None taken. I don’t think.”

“I can’t wait for that day,” Alannah says, and heaves a dreamy sigh as she places her elbows on the island countertop and rests her chin in her upturned palms. “I can’t wait until I have someone to kiss and cuddle. And I hope it’s TJ.”

“That’s disgusting!” Millie shrieks, while her father tries not to choke on a mouthful of coffee. “That’s my brother!”

“Sorry,” her friend gives a sheepish smile. “I can’t help it. He’s so hot.”

“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that about my ten year old son,” Esme says. “I know he’s almost taller than me and admittedly, he has very good genes, but that’s not what I want to hear about him. Here, Laney…” she reaches into the box of pyjamas; rummaging for the correct pair and then tossing them in the young girl’s direction. “Seeing as you’re staying with us this Christmas Eve, you even get a pair.”

“Really?” Her entire face lights up and she excitedly bounces up and down on her heels. “I’ve always wanted to wear matching pyjamas! My parents aren’t into that kind of thing.”

“Apparently they’re not into even being parents,” Tyler mutters under his breath and Esme digs her elbow into his ribs. 

It’s no secret that Alannah is a ‘forgotten child’; conceived by accident and carried and given birth to solely out of responsibility. A complete lack of both paternal and maternal instinct on behalf of her parents, ninety percent of her upbringing in the past eleven years has been at the hands of a staff of nannies. There’s no bond; no relationship between her and her mother and father. So it hadn’t come as a total surprise when Millie had brought up Alannah wanting to stay with them for Christmas Eve and well into the twenty-sixth; her parents going on a ‘business’ trip to Switzerland that had been deemed ‘adults only’. Alannah hadn’t wanted to stay with a ‘fill in’ nanny, and Millie had seen to it that she’d have an as normal as possible Christmas. And it’s sad, how someone so rich and so blessed with material objects, could in fact have so little.

“I like these ones a lot better than last year’s,” Millie says, as she pulls her pair of pyjamas out of the box. “The penguins? Those were a big fail, mum. I’m glad you went with these. These are the ones I picked.”

“Well you have good taste. You always have,” Esme lays her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Now, if you could slow down in the growing department, I’d really appreciate it. You’re officially taller than I am. And you’re only eleven.”

“I’ll be twelve. In March. And I got dad’s genes. I can’t help that you’re profoundly short, mum. Does it help if I call you cute and pocket size?”

“I’ll take the cute. But the pocket size? Apparently you’ve inherited your father’s poor attempt at humour. He’s not funny and neither are you. You girls hungry? How do pancakes sound?”

“They sound good if dad’s cooking them.”

“You are just full of compliments today,” Esme declares, and wraps her forearm around Millie’s neck; the latter laughing when her mother presses a series of noisy kisses to her cheek. “Can you two do me a favour? Go and let the dogs in? And wipe them down before letting them run through the house? Please? Your brothers are bad enough at spreading their dirt and their wet everywhere.”

“Can we have hot chocolate with our breakfast?” Millie asks hopefully. “With whipped cream and sprinkles?”

“I think that can be arranged. After the dogs, go and wake everyone up okay?”

“I can wake TJ up,” Alannah offers.

“You’d probably try waking up with a kiss,” Millie grumbles, as the two girls head through the kitchen . “That is so gross! How can you find my brother hot?”

“Because he is.”

“I am seriously starting to question your sanity. My brother is NOT hot. Annoying, maybe. But not hot.”

“Can you believe this?” Esme addresses her husband, mug of tea pressed to her lips. “Someone finds our son hot.”

“I can’t believe you think she’s the only one who does.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“It means our son is quite popular. At school, at the soccer park, when I take him surfing away from home…”

“Oh how cute. You have the housewives thirsting after you, and he has their daughters thirsting after him. Fantastic.”

“Like you said, he has great genes.”

“Have you been told today? About how annoying your big dick energy is?”

He grins. “You don’t complain about it when I’m giving you the big dick.”

“You are on a roll. You are in fine form today, husband. Must be all the sex you’re getting.”

“It is definitely all the sex I’m getting. From you.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple before pulling her into him. “Not from any of the thirsty housewives. Just from you.”

“You better keep it that way. If you want to KEEP your dick.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You know that. I’ll stick around. Drive you crazy for another...I don’t know...thirty, forty years.”

“Oh lucky me,” she chides, a hand tightly gripping the front of his t-shirt when he leans down to peck her lips. “By the way,” she smooths her palm down his chest, allowing it to travel down to his waist. “You have EVERY reason to have big dick energy. It IS a surprise you haven’t broken me in half by now.”

“Hey, the day’s still young. It COULD happen.”

“Promises, promises,” she laughs, then giggles when he tightly grips the back of her head and kisses her once more.


	11. Past, Present, Future

It’s been a productive morning. Breakfast had turned into an enormous affair; seemingly endless supplies of pancakes, french toast and eggs and bacon being shared amongst the ten people gathered. Although much more reserved and quiet than Millie, Alannah had held her own in the midst of the chaos and chatter; the only child initially nervous and withdrawn but quickly and seemingly getting accustomed to the level of noise and activity that comes with so many children in one house. She’s a lovely little girl. Smart and witty; always offering to help out with food prep and dishes whenever she’s over for a meal, full of compliments in regards to food and decor and possessing remarkable manners and social graces for someone so close to their teenage years. In a way she reminds Esme of the younger version of herself; shunned by her own family and desperately searching for people that will both accept and love her. Perhaps that’s why she’d been so willing and eager to bring the eleven year old into the fold; remembering what it was like to be surrounded by family yet feel so alone at the same time. It’s a horrible feeling; knowing that you’re not what your mother -or both parents in Alannah’s case- wanted and never allowed to forget it. It’s isolating and soul destroying. Causing problems that deeply imbed themselves in your psyche; battling with the destruction and never still weeping and sore wounds that hang around even as a an adult. She hadn't been as fortunate as Alannah; no one else that had been willing to embrace her as ‘one of their own’ and give her what she had so desperately needed AND wanted. And there’d be no way she’d wanted another kid going through that same thing; feeling alienated and lost as a kid and then having your adult years just as messed up and troubled. 

So many bad decisions could be directly blamed on the behaviour she had witnessed growing up. Able to make friends yet unable to form real bonds with them. Growing tired of romantic partners; annoyed by the sounds of their voices and agitated by the touch of their hands and winding up feeling physically ill at the thought of them even touching her in an intimate way. The idea of being that close to someone had always turned her off instead of the opposite; a handful of brief and non intimate relationships throughout her entire high school career before trying her hand at the ‘real deal’ in college. Even then it had been too much work; long battles with her own brain and her own hang ups before she would even let her first REAL boyfriend get anywhere past second base. And she’d gotten married solely because she’d been convinced that Mark could be the one to get her past her issues; she’d learn how to tolerate someone being around all the time and she’d learn how to be a normally functioning adult when it came to having a serious and long term relationship with someone. That had been a disaster; confusing being in love with exactly just settling for someone and convincing yourself that you couldn’t possibly do better, so why even try? And even though she hadn’t loved him, she’d still desperately held on even when he became abusive and turned her life into a living hell. Suddenly afraid to be alone and terrified that his words were true: no one else would ever want her. That she was damaged and crazy and no one in their right mind would ever put up with THAT. And he’d constantly remind her that she couldn’t do better. That she should count her lucky stars that he even stuck around in the first place. No other man would, after all.

“That’s how much I love you, Esme. I put up with you. No other guy would. But I do. Because I love you THAT much.”

It’s weird how things evolve. Or don’t, for that matter. How your past has such an impact on your future. Fifteen years after Mark and she still struggles; moments of extremely low self esteem, lingering mental health problems, an unhealthy and twisted relationship with her own family, a constant worry that -despite being relatively healthy and somehow surviving the most horrible and terrifying of moments- her marriage is only two seconds away from imploding. The latter is irrational and she knows that. Despite Mark’s words, she had managed to find someone that loves her -truly and wholly loves her- despite all of her issues. Who sees past her messiness and busts his ass to help her finally move on and heal from her past. Who looks at her like she’s the most amazing and beautiful woman in the world; who would remind her of that until his very last breath and who -regardless how much it DOES annoy him- always tries to reassure her that things are just fine. He doesn’t care about the other women that check him out or show him attention or even the balls to try and get close. Always finding ways to assure her that he only has eyes for her; a man of few words that never shies away from pledging his unwavering love and faithfulness. No matter how many times she needs to hear it.

Her mother. She’s the one to truly blame for how fucked up her brain is. That lack of maternal instincts and the pure hatred she’d often shown. She had never let Esme forget that she was a mistake; a ‘change of life’ baby that never should have happened in the first place. On the worst of days, she’d often say that she’d wished she’d never even had her. That she should have ignored Esme’s father’s begging and pleadings to keep the baby. They hadn’t needed another mouth to feed; five boys was more than enough and another kid only caused financial strain and emotional strife. Her mother had always refused to acknowledge her own issues that had caused so many problems; her constant cheating, her lack of maternal instincts, her own biases when it came to her children. Even decades later she refuses to accept any responsibility; laughing off any mention of parental neglect or favouritism and shunning any and all suggestion that she was -and still is- emotionally abusive and an expert at psychological warfare. 

While there’s no proof that those exact same things exist in Alannah’s home, Esme does hang onto an old adage passed down by Doctor Klein: “if things are that bad out in the open, they’re even worse behind closed doors.” If Alannah’s parents are so ‘out there’ with their distaste for each other and with their roles as parents, things are probably much darker and direr at home. And if she can give the kid a glimpse of a somewhat normal family and the experience of having siblings and people around her that do value her and appreciate her and show her attention and affection, it’s the least she can do. It’s too late to mend her own issues and it’s not possible to go back and time to change things, but she CAN alter Alannah’s present AND future. 

Desi arrived at ten. Quite the baker and chef himself, he had offered to help Tanner in his culinary pursuits; bringing over his most expensive pots, pans and baking sheets and a stash of both exotic and common ingredients for the ten year old to experiment with. And with Millie the only other child left in the house, it had given her the opportunity for a little ‘me time’; the rest of the kids having gone with their father to assist in his pursuit for last minute Christmas gifts and the items she’d jotted down a list prepared right before he stepped out the front door. Some time in the gym had done her a world of good. Forty five minutes on both the treadmill and the rowing machine, followed by some time with the weights and working up a sweat punching and kicking at the heavy bag; the latter successfully enabling her to shed the anger and bitterness towards Mark, her own mother, and Alannah’s parents. 

While she isn’t quite nearly as devoted and motivated as her husband is -often working out twice a day, two to three hours at a time- when it comes to fitness, she find it DOES help; getting her heart rate up and her adrenaline flowing a rather successful combination when it comes to her battle with her mental health woes and her ongoing battle with her self esteem. The latter becoming worse with the arrival of the last set of twins and her inability to shed the remaining twenty pounds -out of forty five- that she’d gained while pregnant with them. She’s nowhere near who and what she’d been before she’d begun having children; missing how skinny yet fit she’d been and how every piece of clothing she’d owned or tried on had seemed to fit so perfectly. 

Tyler always rolls his eyes when she brings it up.Quick to remind her that a lot has changed since they first met; he doesn’t expect her to be the same person, in the same way she doesn’t expect him to be either. And that’s a good thing, he’d point out, and then thoroughly list all the ways they’ve both evolved for the better. He’d get that mischievous glitter to his eyes and he’d give that cheeky grin and he’d talk about how much he enjoys her body now; all that ‘extra cushioning’ in all the right places. And then he’d kiss her and embrace her as tight as her body would allow him to and everything would seem right and perfect in the world once again. Those big, strong arms never failing to make her feel safe and protected. In a way no one else has ever been able to.

******

After a long bubble bath- complete with scented candles and a glass of wine- she finally heads downstairs; braiding her still damp hair and securing it with an elastic and letting it dangle over the front of her shoulder. Desi is in the living room; surrounded by plastic tote boxes filled to the brim with various Christmas ornaments that he’s in the middle of organizing. The tree had arrived earlier and now sits in its stand in front of the living room window; seven feet tall and wide and full and filling the house with the fresh and unmistakable scent of pine. The kids are already excited to decorate. Even the normally quick to bore Millie looking forward to what has turned into quite the year event; Chinese take out and hot chocolate stirred with candy canes and the fireplace on while Christmas carols play on the stereo. It’s just a little ‘something’; a simple and silly little tradition that they’d adopted when they’d first moved back to Australia and have been indulging in ever since. There’s been many more adopted; both trying to give their kids the experiences they never had growing up.

“Thought maybe you fell asleep,” Desi says in a way of greeting. “Not that I’d blame you. Isn’t often you get time away from all the kiddos.”

“As nice as a nap sounds, the bath hit the spot. I may or may not have refilled the tub with hot water three times. Just to drag it out a bit. You’ve been busy. You don’t have to organize and clean my house every time you come over. I’m more than happy just to spend time with YOU.”

“A little help here and there is a good thing. Little T was helping me go through things and make them a little easier for you to find. We’ve got shortbread and sugar cookies in one oven, brownies and squares in the other. He’s in his glory that kid. Quite the little baker, ain’t he? He’s got skills. A mighty keen palate.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he becomes rich and famous for his cooking and baking one day. He’s a talent. In many ways.”

“He’s a good kid. A damn good kid. Reminds me of you in a lot of ways. Got quite a bit of momma in him. And he sure thinks the world of her, too.”

“He’s always been close to me. Since we lived in Colorado. He became quite the momma’s boy when things…” her voice trails off and she reaches into one of the boxes and pulls out a strand of rose gold garland. “...when things weren’t so good between Tyler and I.”

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. We split up. For six months.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. He went through some things. That were totally out of his control. And he made some decisions that weren’t the best. I had to kick him out.”

“You kicked him out? You? As madly and crazily in love as you are?”

“I did. He got back into the booze and the pain meds and he became a totally different person and I didn’t want that around the kids. So I told him to go. That once he got his shit together and could put us before his issues and his job, he could come back. Took him half a year, but…” she shrugs and tosses the garland onto the couch. “...it all worked out in the end. We got back together and we fought like hell to make things work. And here we are. Twelve years into things. And a hell of a lot better and stronger than we’ve ever been. He’s changed. We both have. We’ve come a long way.”

“And Little T?”

“He picked sides. He was three years old. Just a baby still. But he’d seen and heard enough and it affected him way more than it did TJ and Millie. He was scared of his dad. For a long time. Not that Tyler ever did anything to scare him; he never yelled at the kids or hit them or did anything to frighten them. We fought. A lot. And those fights got pretty bad. A lot of yelling and a lot of really horrible things said to each other. Things we can’t take back, unfortunately.”

“But you got past all that. Obviously.”

“We did. I mean, we didn’t MEAN the things we said. They were said out of anger and hurt; none of it was ever intentional. But that sticks with you, you know? You didn’t mean what you said and you hate yourself for saying any of it, but you still did it. And you can’t go back and erase it. Those words existed. Sadly.”

“You can’t dwell on it, Big E. You just can’t. Y’all got past it, am I right? You got back together, you said yourself you’re better and stronger than ever. And I highly doubt he holds all that against you; shit that happened years ago.”

“I know he doesn’t. But I also know he holds it against himself.”

“Well, that’s the bipolar part of things. Keeps the bad shit in his head and reminds him of it during the down moments. He’s doing okay with that? All that shit in his head?”

“He is. He’s been remarkably...well..for someone with the diagnosis he has. I’m proud of him. For handling things like he has. He just copes with it all. Way better than I thought he would. It’s been five years and there’s been no real issues. He takes his meds and he goes to therapy and he manages it all well. I’m proud of him. So proud. He’s done really well. He’s a tough shit, that’s for sure. Probably the toughest person I’ve ever known.”

“You mean when you’re NOT looking in the mirror?”

Esme laughs. “I am not THAT tough. I put on a good front.”

“You’re a tough cookie for a tiny little thing. All the things you’ve told me? That you’ve been through over the past twelve and a bit years? You shouldn’t underestimate yourself like you do.”

“It’s been...interesting...to say the least.” 

It isn’t something she speaks so openly and honestly about; how she and Tyler met and everything that had happened in Dhaka and the decisions she’d made on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It isn’t exactly a topic you’re comfortable discussing with just anyone; your husband being a mercenary and a former alcoholic and painkiller addict with mental health issues. But Desi is trustworthy; kind and compassionate with a heart even bigger than his already enormous body. And it helps to have a confidant; someone to spill even your deepest and darkest secrets to without the worry of being judged.

“I found these,” Desi snags a shoebox off the coffee table and opens the lid as he presents it to her. “Look homemade.”

She peels back the layer of tissue paper and smiles at the contents revealed. “Salt dough ornaments. I remember making them with Millie. We were still in Telluride. Our third Christmas there. I hadn’t even gotten pregnant with Declan yet. God, that seems like a long time ago.”

“There’s four there, though. If you hadn’t had Declan yet, there’d only be three, would there not?”

“That’s not Declan’s.” She carefully plucks out the fourth ornament in question; gingerly turning it over in her palm as she inspects it. The same size and shape as the others, but with the added ‘extra’ of a halo that a then three year old Millie had decorated with gold glitter. It had been her idea; an ornament for the brother that she’d never get to meet but insisted was still very much part of their family. “That’s Austin’s.”

“Austin? Who is Austin? You have another kid I don’t know about? A baby you lost or…”

“Austin wasn’t mine. He was Tyler’s son. From his first marriage.”

“Excuse me….what?”

“He was married. Before me. In the same way I was married before him.”

“You never told me about that. You being the second Missus Rake.”

“There was never really a reason to talk about it. She was his high school sweetheart. They got married pretty much right after graduation. Then he joined the military. Austin arrived a little while later. When he was twenty five.”

“What happened between them? Things went bad or…?”

“It wasn’t the healthiest of marriages. They were young. Probably rushed into things. He was gone a lot and she wasn’t happy being an army wife.”

“And the kid? Does he see him? Do they live in Australia too or…?”

“Austin died.” She finds herself both fighting back a flood of threatening tears and speaking around a lump of emotion sitting square in her throat. “When he was six. Long before I ever knew Tyler.”

“I’m sorry,” Desi lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if…”

“It’s okay. It’s good to talk about it. About HIM. We’ve never hidden it from the kids. We’ve always been open and honest about things. Our past lives, the fact we were both married before, how they’d have another sibling if things had gone differently. There’s never been a reason NOT to tell about those things. It’s all part of who we are. All plays a role in how we got to where we are now. In one way or another.”

“Was he sick? Was there an accident or….?”

“He had lymphoma. It was very aggressive and pretty far along when the doctors finally caught it. The kid didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t last long. Even with chemo and radiation. It was bad. Very, very bad. Just a horrible thing for a kid to go through.”

“And for his folks to see.”

“It was a really bad time. For them. As a family. And Tyler…” she swipes at the tears that manage to escape. “...he was never the same after that. It really did a number on him. I know he seems all big and bad and fearless and intimidating but he’s got such a huge heart. He loves big and he loves deep. You see how he is; with the kids.”

“Definitely loves being a daddy. And they definitely love him.”

“He’s an amazing dad. I couldn’t have asked or wished for a better father for my children. And in a way, losing Austin made him the dad that he is. It was rough. On him. It still is.”

“It’s a hell of a thing. Losing a kid. Can’t imagine what it’s like seeing your own flesh and blood suffer like that. It was bad enough for me; seeing my husband go through what he did. I can’t imagine watching a kid go through that.”

“I often wonder what would happen if one of the kids got sick. If he could even handle it. I mean, once is enough. Imagine having to deal with that AGAIN? And I hate that my brain even goes there. That I immediately think of something like that. He’s tough and he’s strong and he’s resilient. But I don’t think he could handle that. If anything happened to one of the kids or me…”

“He’d deal with it. It’s what we do. When we love someone. But you need to get out of your head, Big E. I mean, it’s beautiful nine times out of ten. But that last remaining bit…”

“It’s a mess. I’m the first to admit that. I can’t believe I’m this emotional over this. It’s a Christmas ornament, for crying out loud.”

“It’s what it represents. It’s your husband’s pain. So it’s your pain too.”

“For years we never even put the ornament on the tree. Tyler couldn’t handle seeing it. So I just put it away. Until he was ready for it to be out. And then one year, he did it himself; got it out of the box and hung it on the tree and that was that. We’ve been putting it up since.”

“Is that why their marriage broke up? The kid getting sick?”

“There were other problems. It wasn’t a good marriage. For many reasons.” She lays the ornament back in the box and carefully covers it with the layer of tissue paper. “But I guess in the end, it worked out okay. For me anyway. We wouldn’t have met. Had things NOT fallen apart. I can’t say I wish I could go back and change things. Because if I could do it…”

“Change one thing, change everything. The butterfly effect.”

“Whatever you do, do not bring that up to Tyler. Not the butterfly effect itself. The movie. Don’t talk about Ashton Kutcher to him. He’s got this deep rooted and unexplainable hate for him.”

“I feel the same way about Justin Timberlake. You know what I call him? Just to be an asshole? Justin Tenderbottom.”

Esme laughs at that, then sets the shoebox down on the cluttered coffee table and allows herself to be pulled into a tight hug; one of Desi’s enormous hands on the back of her head and his arm curled around her waist. She rests her forehead against his chest; the tears coming easily and effortlessly now. It’s a hurt she’s never been quite able to explain; a painful and long lasting mourning for a child that she never knew. 

“You’re a good little wife, Big E. I know for a fact that he thinks the sun rises and sets on you. That you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“He said that?” Esme sniffles noisily and looks up at her friend. “He admitted that to you?”

“He did. And he’s said a lot about you. All good things, too. You are definitely the center of his entire universe. And you know what? It’s a horrible thing that happened. To his son. To him. But if it hadn’t? Well you wouldn’t have what you have now. Those seven kids you got? None of them would exist. And if you ask me? This world is a better place because they do.”

“Mum!” Tanner calls, as he slowly makes his way from the kitchen; oven mitts on his hands as he carefully carries a mug of tea. “I made you a drink! I knew you’d want one. You always have tea right after a bath.”

Smiling, she pulls away from Desi and uses the bottom of her t-shirt to wipe away the tears that stain her cheeks. “You know me very well, sweet boy. You didn’t use the stove though, did you? To boil the water? You know you’re not supposed to do that if there isn’t an adult with you.”

“I used the coffee maker. Daddy showed me how. I know what I’m doing. And it’s safe. I can’t hurt myself. Three milk and no sugar,” he presents her with the mug, a proud smile plastered from ear to ear. “Just like you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” she says, and takes his face in her hands and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “And so are you. The most perfect and precious Nugget EVER.”

****

Two hours later she finds herself lounging in the sunroom; legs stretched out and socked feet against the window, laptop opened and resting on her thighs. It’s a double helping of work; two businesses to keep running smoothly even when thousands of miles away. Scheduling and payroll and Christmas bonuses to take care of for the bookshop employees, emails from potential clients needing fast and efficient ‘solutions’ to serious problems in areas all over the world. Word travels in the mercenary life; a rather tight knit yet extremely competitive circle that moves fast. People with money want the best; someone that chooses a life of relative secrecy yet possesses an astounding and well respected reputation. The list of ‘regulars’ is long and plentiful, and each brings more people into the game; word of mouth making or breaking a company such as theirs. There’s never a lack of work; over forty guys -some with years of experience that had bailed from competitors- employed and constantly climbing. But Christmas is the one holiday where they DO take a break; referring anyone that needs a job done to Anil. He doesn’t take his role of a husband and a father as seriously; dedicated to his work and refusing to let anyone -even his own wife and children- get in the way.. He’s a good man and treats Nik and the girls well; providing for them and protecting them and making sure they never go without. But his loyalties remain with his business, and he is never shy when it comes to admitting or defending it.

She forwards him the emails and then focuses her attention on the bookstore; balancing the books and checking the profits and sending out payroll and bonuses. It’s been a quiet end to the morning; Milie and Alannah upstairs in her bedroom playing on the computer and watching movies, Tanner and Desi finishing their first round of baking and using their break to head outside to play in the snow. She watches them now; Desi’s big body lumbering around the yard as he chases Tanner, who occasionally allows himself to be scooped up and tossed into the nearest snow pile. That high pitched and giggle makes her smile; picturing Tanner’s enormous smile that crinkles the bridge of his nose and the corners of those brilliant blue eyes. He doesn’t form bonds easily; leery of new people and finding it difficult to make friends. But he’d taken easily to Desi. Once saying that it was the man’s deep yet soothing voice that won him over. Along with a gentle smile and warm brown eyes that let Tanner know that their neighbour was a good person with a good heart.

The doorbell sounds just as she finishes and sends off the store’s schedule for January. The melodic chime setting off a flurry of activity and noises; both dogs -stirred for their naps in front of the front room fireplace- now barking in unison, paws sliding across hardwood flooring as they scramble for the door. It’s soon followed by Millie’s footsteps; seeming unusually thunderous and heavy as they rush down the stairs. Accompanied by that thick Aussie accent she’s adopted within the last five years; yelling at Saju and Mac to lie down and shut up and behave or she’ll throw them out in the snow. It’s hardly a threat; both preferring the sun and the sand and their romps in the ocean, but quite accustomed to the cold weather and snow beneath their feet.

“Mum!” Millie bellows in an effort to be heard over the continued barking. “Some lady’s at the door! She wants to see dad!”

“He’s not home!”

“I know that! But she wants to talk to someone! And I don’t want it to be me!”

Smirking, she snaps the lid closed on the laptop and sets it on the coffee table; grimacing at the tightness in her lower back as she gets to her feet. The pain and discomfort is new over the course of the last five years; a small mistake made during the epidural while in labour with the twins resulting in long term damage. It sucks; your body betraying you when you’ve been so selfless and willing to keep other human beings alive inside of you. Pulling the sides of her cardigan sweater tighter around her body, she crosses her arms over her chest as she heads for the front of the house; soles of her UGG slippers lightly squeaking against the wood flooring. They’d been yet another one of her husband’s surprise gifts; a neatly wrapped package accompanied by a bouquet of Australian wildflowers that had shown up a day after he’d left for Cambodia. He’s become a master at it; showering both her and the kids with both simple and elaborate gifts. Claiming that it makes him happy to do it; spending his own childhood going without while his father used their money for booze. And it’s a way of making up for all his past mistakes as well; doing whatever he can to be a good husband and father and erase the mistakes of the past that continue to haunt him.

The woman at the door is tall and blond; clad in a disgustingly expensive leather coat with fur trim, the ends of her wavy platinum hair tumbling out from under the edge of a burgundy wool beret that perfectly matches her heavily painted lips. The smile she gives is phony; the look of dismay and disgust readily apparent as her eyes take in Esme’s more casual and relaxed look. It isn’t the first time she’s seen a look like THAT; the housewives on the school yard and at the soccer park have long perfected it, along with their snide comments about how ‘boring and plain Jane’ she is and how they can’t fathom how someone like Tyler could stand being with someone like her. 

“She’s here to see dad,” Millie says. “I said he wasn’t home, but…”

“It’s okay,” Esme assures her, then nods down at the curious and rambunctious dogs now gathered at her feet. “Can you put these guys outside? Before they give me a migraine?”

Nodding, Millie slaps her hand against her thigh; a well used sign that dogs have learned means they should follow her. And they happily cooperate; their tails wagging energetically and their bodies pressed against the eleven year old’s legs as she leads the way through the house.

“She’s very…charming.” 

Esme glances up at the woman standing in front of her, and manages a polite yet terse smile of her own. “Well, what can I say? She’s her father’s daughter. Can I help you?”

“You must be Emily.”

“Esme. My name is Esme. Not Emily.”

“That’s a very unusual name. A little...odd...in this day and age.”

“It’s actually quite common. Very old and classic. I was named after my great, great grandmother. And she was born in the eighteen hundreds, so…”

“I’m Natalie.” She doesn’t bother to offer a hand, electing instead to keep a firm hold on the plastic container she tightly clutches.

“That’s very plain. Natalie. Kind of boring. Guess you didn’t have any unusual and odd relatives to be named after.”

The corners of the woman’s turn up in a slight smirk.

“Can I help you? Is there a reason you’re here? Asking for my husband?”

“I’m here to see Tyler.”

“And our daughter told you he isn’t home. Which wasn’t an invite to stick around. I’m sure whatever you want to talk to him about, can wait until he IS here. Or, I could just give him a message and then he can decide whether he wants to talk to you or not. I wouldn’t hold your breath; he isn’t the chattiest person on the block. Why ARE you here? Is there something I can help you with or…?”

“I was hoping to speak to him.”

“And for the third time, you’re being told he’s not home. So sorry, Tyler can’t come out to play right now. And unless there’s something you want to say to me….”

“We met yesterday. He was at the park. With your son. The handicapped one.”

Once more crossing her arms over her chest, she cocks her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“Your son. With the problems. Travis, Thomas….”

“His name is Tanner. And he doesn’t have ‘problems’. He has Autism. Don’t talk about my son like that. You can come here calling on my husband all you want, but when you bring my kid into this…”

“We had a nice little chat. At the park. We just moved here. My daughter and I. It’s been hard meeting people.”

Esme smirks. “I can’t possibly imagine why.”

“He was very friendly. Welcoming. Tyler. Not Tanner. Just to be clear.”

“And…”

“And I just wanted to thank him for that. For being so nice. For making us feel like part of the neighbourhood.”

“Well I’ll be sure to tell him that. I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing it. Is that everything or….?”

“These are for him.” Natalie offers the plastic container. “I made them myself. They’re award winning. Used to get lots of compliments on those.”

“Oh how nice. You’re offering him your cookie. I mean, cookies. That’s very sweet. I will let him know that you stopped by with your generous offer. But just so you know, he doesn’t accept...goodies...from other women. So if you’re thinking about offering him any in the future, you might want to stop while you’re ahead. I’m sure there’s other married men out there who would gladly accept. But my husband? You’re pissing in the wrong front yard.”

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just making it clear that he doesn’t accept goodies from other women. Ever. And he never will. So if you’ve got something brewing up in that head of yours, you might want to put an end to it now. He’s not interested. And believe me, I think you’d rather hear that from me. He won’t let you down as politely and easily.”

“I don’t know what you think I’m up to, but…”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve come across plenty of women like you. And I’m just cutting to the chase. He’s not interested. Find someone else. Go after someone else’s husband. Stay away from mine.”

“I’m not after your husband. I’m just here doing something neighbourly and…”

“If it WAS something neighbourly, you would have come here to introduce yourself to ALL of us. Not just ask for him. I have to admit though, that’s pretty ballsy; showing up like this and having the nerve to talk to the wife. Most would have just left once they found out the husband wasn’t home. I’ll hand it to you; you’ve got some nerve.”

“I’m just here to be friendly. That’s it. No ulterior motive. You know, I was surprised to hear you have SEVEN kids. When I saw you the other day out in the snow with them, I thought there was no way they could all be yours. You just seemed so fresh faced and young. No way did you look like someone with THAT many children. But now up close? Well, let’s just say I’d look tired and downtrodden too if I got pregnant that many times.”

“My husband prefers the fresh faced and natural look. You know, as opposed to looking like Sephora threw up on your face. He also prefers brunettes. So that’s two strikes against you. Is there anything else? Other than your cookie. Sorry,” Esme laughs. “I did it again. I meant ‘cookies’. Is there more or…?”

“No. I think we’re done here.”

“You know what? I think we are too. And as lovely and sweet as you are, I hope this is the first and last little visit. I hope you fully understood what I told you. About keeping your goodies out of my yard. I think I made it pretty clear.”

“You did. As a matter of fact, you…”

“Have a good day,” Esme manages a smile, then shuts the door in the woman’s face, giving a small jump when she discovers her daughter sitting in the middle of the stairs; her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

“What a bitch,” Millie grumbles.

“Normally I’d give you hell for the language, but right? She was, wasn’t she?”

“Huge. A huge bitch. You should have throat punched her, mum. She deserved it.”

“You can’t just go around throat punching everyone that pisses you off. If you could, I’d be exhausted. Or in jail.”

“I can’t believe she’d come here asking for dad,” Millie says, as she stands and takes the stairs two at a time, following her mother towards the back of the house. “How rude is that? Asking for another woman’s husband? That’s some goddamn nerve.”

“She’s probably used to getting what she wants. And WHO she wants.”

“Well she can’t have dad. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want anyone. Just you. Think she got the point? That she better not try and mess with him? I think you went way too easy on her. I think you should have thrown down. You could have taken her. For sure.”

“Some women don’t care, Millie. They’ll continue to mess around with married guys no matter how times they’ve been warned to back off. Maybe she’s one of them. Maybe this isn’t the last we’ve seen of her. Who knows.”

“If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay away. You were tame. Dad won’t be. He won’t be nice.”

“Maybe that’s what she needs. She needs a man to tell her where to go and how to get there. If there’s one thing your dad is a professional at, it’s telling people off. Don’t worry about her ; she’s harmless. Your dad wouldn’t touch her anyway. He’s not the type. To do things like that.”

“I think it would be hilarious to see him tell her off and really embarrass her. And what are those supposed to be?” Millie nods at the container Esme drops on the island. 

“Cookies. She made them for him. Isn’t that so sweet?”

The eleven year old makes a dramatic gagging noise. “She probably poisoned them. In hopes you’d eat them. Probably wants to kill you off and become our step mother. They look like shit anyway. Throw them out. I would.”

“I’ll let your dad decide what he wants to do with them. And her. The ball is in his court now. He can decide what to do from here.”

“I hope he tells her to piss off. That’s just plain weird; coming over to some married guy's house and asking for him. On what planet is that okay to do?”

“None. It’s very unusual. To say the least. But like I said, don’t worry about her. Your dad wouldn’t do something like that. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. That is the last thing I’m worried about.”

“Good. Because she has nothing on you. She’s all phony looking. But that fur wasn’t. On her coat. I bet she’s obnoxious enough to wear real fur. What a cow. She should have been throat punched for that alone. Don’t worry, mum. You’re way better than she is. You’re real and you’re cute and tiny. And dad loves you. ONLY you.”

“Your dad is the last person I worry about. Other women? I definitely worry about them. Your dad? Never. I trust him. A hundred percent. And speaking of your father, I hope Alannah likes Mexican. Dad’s bringing some home for lunch.”

“She loves it. She loves all the same things I do.” Picking the container of cookies up off the counter, she peels back one of the corners and sniffs at the contents; frowning and making a gagging noise before setting them back down. “They’re not even good cookies. Oatmeal raisin! The abomination of cookies! Dad HATES oatmeal raisin. He says there’s nothing worse than biting into one and expecting it to be chocolate chip, only to discover it’s oatmeal raisin.”

“Your dad loves Vegemite. So excuse me if I don’t take his taste in food seriously.”

“Vegemite is awesome, mom. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yes. I do. Which is why I don’t eat it. If I wanted to eat shit, I would. Everything okay? You and Alannah getting along alright?”

“She’s my best friend. In the whole world. I love her. And we always have an awesome time and we never get tired of each other. But there’s something I need to ask you. About her.”

“Okay…” Esme slides onto one of the bar stools at the island. “...what’s up?”

“I’m worried about her. The way things are at home. Her parents are horrible. They don’t even want her around. And when she is around them, they just ignore her. They don’t even talk to her. They don’t ask about her day at school or about her friends or anything like that. They don’t even know what her favourite movie or tv show is or what celebrity she has her crush on. What parent doesn’t know that stuff? You and dad know that stuff about us.”

“Dad and I care. We like knowing about you guys. You’re our kids. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well Alannah’s their kid and they don’t give a crap about her. I mean, they’re leaving her at Christmas! How horrible is that? Who just dumps their kid off on someone at Christmas?”

“Millie, not everyone has the life you do. Not everyone has parents that love them. Not everyone has a mom and dad that wants to be involved in their lives. I didn’t have it. Your dad didn’t have it. And unfortunately, Laney doesn’t have it. It sucks. Believe me, I know.”

“But what if we could give her a family? A real family? Like you and dad did with Ovi.”

“I’m not sure if I like where this is heading…”

“She loves being here. Spending time with all of us. I mean, she was scared of dad at first. Because of how big he is and all his tattoos and scars and stuff. But she got to know him and now she loves him. And she really loves you. She always goes on and on about you. About how cool and fun you are. And tiny. Like her.”

“We love having her here. She’s a great kid. I hope she realizes she’s welcome here. Anytime.”

“She does. Which is why I want to ask you what I’m about to ask you.”

“Okay. Something tells me this is serious. What’s going on?”

"I want her to come back with us. When we go home." 

“Millie, we can’t just…”

“She’s part of the family already. You and dad love her like she’s one of us. And you guys treat her great. She’d fit right in. And she’d love it there. She’d love being so close to the beach and the ocean. I know she would. And she’s not a bad kid. She’s a really good kid. You said it yourself; how great she is.”

“She IS great. She’s an awesome kid. But we can’t just take her with us.”

“Why not? Don’t you want her there?”

“Of course I want her there. But she has a mom and dad. Not very good ones, but she still has them. We can’t just take her with us. There’s this little thing called kidnapping. We can’t just take someone else’s child.”

“You took Ovi. When I was a baby.”

“We didn’t just TAKE him. We had to jump through a lot of hoops. Legally. Your dad had to go and talk to Ovi’s father and try and convince him to let us have him. It wasn’t just as simple as bringing Ovi along.”

“Dad could talk to Alannah’s parents. Talk them into letting her come with us. They’d let her. They don’t care about her anyway. We’d be taking her off their hands. They’d probably be happy about it.”

“Amelia, it just isn’t that simple. There’s a lot of red tape and legal stuff. I wish it was easier, but it’s not.”

“But would you consider it? IF her parents said okay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I suppose? I’d need time to think about it. I already have seven kids. Taking on an eighth?”

“It’s not like she’s a baby. All the hard work has already been done. Please, mum? Would you at least think about it?”

“If it was just as simple as talking to her parents and taking her with us, I’d say yes. In a heartbeat. But it’s NOT that easy.”

“I just want you to think about it. We’d be giving her a good life. Like you and dad gave Ovi. Will you at least think about it?”

“It’s not a decision I can make on my own, sweet pea. I’m not in this alone. I’d have to talk to your dad. I can’t just tell him we’re taking on another kid. It doesn’t work that way. He has to be on board with it.”

“Will you talk to him at least? Bring it up? Just see what he says?”

Esme nods. “I will talk to your dad. But I’m not promising anything, Millie. We have a crazy life. Your dad has his business and I have the bookstore. And there’s seven of you. Taking Alannah? That’s a big deal. That’s serious. And it’s something your dad and I would really, really have to talk about it. That’s all I can promise you. That I’ll talk to him. That’s the best I can do.” She reaches out and tucks some of the wayward strands of blond hair behind Millie’s ears. “Okay?”

“Okay, mum. And I’m sorry. For how I’ve been acting. I’m kinda bitchy lately.”

“Kinda?” Esme grins. “Just kinda?”

.“Okay, maybe A LOT. But I do love you. And I AM sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I was your age once. I know what it was like. And it was brutal. VERY brutal. You know what that means? The mood swings, the attitude, the skin issues?”

“Aunt Flow is going to be paying a visit soon.”

Esme laughs.”Yeah, unfortunately. The joys of being a girl. You'll be alright, though. It’s a change. You’re growing up. Even I’m having a hard time with it. I still remember finding out about you. And telling your dad we were having you. Seems like forever ago now. We were so happy.”

“Dad was a little spooked. At first.”

“He was. And for good reason. He’d lost Austin and he didn't think he’d ever get to be a dad again. And then I told him about you and we hadn’t known each other that long and it was kinda scary. For both of us. But once we saw you? On that first ultrasound? And we got to hear your heartbeat? We loved you right away.”

“Dad’s miracle baby.”

“He will never, EVER, stop calling you that. He loves you so much, Millie. More than you could ever comprehend. And he’s pretty good, huh? At the whole daddy thing?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t trade him for another dad, that’s for sure. And I wouldn’t trade you either, mum. Just so you know. I know sometimes we don’t get along well. We don’t always see eye to eye on stuff.”

“Well, you are your father’s daughter. Through and through. And your dad and I disagree a lot too. But I love you. Beyond all comprehension You’re my first. My baby girl. How could I not?”

Smiling, Millie stands behind the stool Esme’s perched on and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck. “I love you, mummy. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I love you too, Amelia.” She pushes her fingers through her daughter’s, then presses a kiss to one of the forearms resting across her collarbone. “And I always will.”


	12. Old Wounds

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults. 

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out. 

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits. 

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears. 

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”


	13. In The Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: very brief mention of sexual abuse

He wakes to the press of her warm body against his and the smell of her hair. A mixture of coconut and honey; an inexpensive shampoo that she’s been using for more than a decade and he never tires of. It’s the scent of home; the reminder of the place where he’s the happiest and feels the most comfortable and secure. Where he can be himself without judgment; not looked down upon for his weaker moments or when the darker days of battling his own mind have him feeling scared and vulnerable. For years he’d tucked that side of himself away; using booze and pain meds as a way to mask the pain and escape the demons and the monsters of the past. He’d become emotionally absent; refusing to make connections with anyone out of the fear of becoming too close and getting too attached, only to lose them. And he’d convinced himself that he was unable to love or be loved; years of torment at the hands of his father and the horrible decision he’d made while his child was dying condemning him. It seems like a lifetime ago now; a whole other existence entirely. In the last twelve and half years he’s learned to love again; wholly and unconditionally and so profoundly it is physically painful at times. And he’s allowed himself to be loved in return; blessed with a woman that knows his deepest and darkest secrets and sees past all his faults. Who forgives his mistakes and always gives him another chance, even when he knows he’s not deserving of it. And seven children that he’s had a hand in creating; incredible little human beings that adore and trust him without hesitation. 

It’s a life unlike anything he ever thought possible. When both the enormity of his horrible decision regarding his son and his profound grief had set in, he’d sought comfort in the bottle and the unpredictability of a dangerous and bloody career. Relegating himself to a solitary and miserable existence; refusing to allow anyone to get too close and using women for nothing more than sexual gratification. Convincing himself that he didn’t deserve anything beyond that; a warm body on a lonely night and that beaten and battered shack in the outback with its rusted tin roof. Knowing if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch that fatal bullet while on a job, he’d more than likely die there on the dusty floor; drinking himself to death or OD'ing on a mixture of painkillers and cheap whiskey. There were days he prayed for it; an end to the demons that had been tormenting him since the moment he’d gotten the call in Afghanistan that his only child had passed away. 

Part of him had died the moment Austin had; all the experiences he’d hoped they’d share, all the dreams he had about what his son would achieve and who he’d become suddenly coming to an abrupt end. Logically, they’d ceased to exist months before. When the specialists had said that despite their best efforts with both chemotherapy and radiation, the cancer had returned and was just far too aggressive and advanced; palliative care and pain management the only remaining options. But while his wife had been devastated and immediately began planning for the inevitable, he’d clung to that faint hope that the medical professionals were wrong; some miracle would occur and Austin would beat the odds. Reality soon began to set in, and it was then that Tyler had discovered just how weak and vulnerable he really was; turning to alcohol to numb the pain, spendings hours and sometimes days away from home because he couldn’t bear seeing his son suffer and his wife run herself ragged and fall deeper and deeper in the pit of despair and grief. 

He hadn’t been able to handle it; unable to ‘man up’ and be who and what both of them had so desperately needed. Despite the ongoing issues in their marriage and her long and sordid history of cheating -and the rumours that the kid wasn’t even his to begin with- she had deserved so much better. And he had longed to give her that; a shoulder to cry on and someone to help with the burdens of caring for a terminally ill child. But he’d chickened out. His own grief and fears getting the better of him; unable to handle the realization that he was a total failure. So he ran. Volunteering to head overseas instead of staying behind and stepping up. Leaving his wife to handle everything on her own and his son to wonder what he’d ever done to deserve being abandoned.

It doesn’t hurt as much as now. Not just the trauma of seeing your child suffer and waste away, but the guilt and the regret his poor decision had brought about. It’s taken years of therapy to get as far as he has; moments of profound anguish as every single one of the skeletons in his closet came tumbling out. It took reliving the initial pain to kick start the healing; periods of immense grief for the child he’d lost followed by periods of extreme self loathing and time spent in the deepest and darkest bits of despair and desperation. But it HAD helped; the guilt and regret lessening, the hatred for himself losing some of its power. It will always linger just under the surface; the sting of the decision he’d made, how he sees himself as a monster not just because of it, but because of the things he’s had to do while on the job. Killing had never been about satisfaction or enjoyment. It had always been a means to an end; his chances of survival hinging on whether he could be quicker to pull the trigger or if he could outwit, outsmart, and out strength his opponents. And the only times he had gotten some pleasure out of it -other than just recently in Laos and Cambodia- had been five years ago. When he’d brutally and bloodily taken the lives of two of Mahajan’s men in an elevator in Mumbai, and when he’d had no chance but to eliminate that threat that had drugged and attacked him first. It had been personal then; threats made against his wife and his children. And taking the lives of those who would have delighted in torturing and murdering his family HAD given him a sense of satisfaction. 

The demons of the past don’t carry as much weight now. Their power significantly decreased. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments when self hate and disgust DON’T return. When his mood is dropping and he’s more prone to returning to the pain and the regret of the past. It doesn’t happen often; medication and therapy helping to keep those moments to a minimum. But they do make an appearance. Self loathing making a comeback; reminding him of all the things he’s said and done that DO make him a monster and telling him that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now. That he’s committed way too many heinous acts to ever be truly forgiven. Absolution would never come his way; he's too far gone for THAT. In the same way guys like him aren’t allowed to love and be loved in return. And that’s when the fear kicks in; the concern that his life is way too good to be true and everything that is beautiful and perfect in it will be taken away to teach him a lesson. His protectiveness stems from it. The fear and worry profound; driving him to hold on to what he has even tighter than usual. On those days it all becomes too much to bear; a tightness in his chest and an ache that reaches to his very soul. 

Some of that returns now; the fear that tugs at his chest and gnaws at his stomach. It had started last night; decorating the tree with the kids and coming across the ornament that Millie had made for Austin years ago. It’s always bittersweet; remembering what he’d lost while reminding himself of everything he has now. Had things gone differently and Austin never gotten sick, life would have been dramatically altered. His marriage somehow managing to be salvaged despite her inability to stay faithful, or at the very least being able to co-parent peacefully and amicably. He would have stayed in the military; grief and regret and the feelings of failure never turning him towards alcohol and pain meds to numb the pain and effectively ending what could have been a great career in special forces. Had he stayed with SASR and kept on the straight and narrow, mercenary work would have never even been on his radar. And that’s when things become complicated and troublesome. Even if his marriage HAD still fallen apart, there would have been no chance of ever meeting Esme. It WAS the job that led him to her; years as a hired gun somehow culmination with him coming face to face with who would turn out to be the love of his life. He had always thought he’d loved Sarah; she’d been his high school sweetheart and his first of many things. And it wasn’t until he was thirty-five that his eyes had been opened to just how wrong he’d actually been. Simply by chance meeting someone that would -even twelve and a half years later- take his breath away. Who would see past his jagged edges and the amount of baggage weighing him down and take a chance on him; looking past the mess he’d made of his life and patiently tearing down all the walls he’d build up around his heart. Who still looks at him as if he’s the most incredible man on earth; loving him with everything she has and everything she is and possessing an extraordinary amount of blind faith and trust.

She IS love. Everything that is beautiful and perfect about it. Never given up on him or them. Had Austin NOT died, he never would have found her and would have never known real love in its purest and most unconditional of forms. And his kids wouldn’t exist; seven incredible little human beings that he’d had a hand in creating. And even if he could go back in time and change things, he wouldn’t. He would choose to bear the pain of Austin’s death and the punishment that came with the horrible choice that he made. In the same way he’d accept the Dhaka job a million times over; taking a million bullets to the neck if it meant he’d be rewarded with what he has now. 

*****

She lies with her back to him and her head resting on his arm. It had long ago fallen asleep; pins and needles stretching all the way from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. They’d decided to bed down in the sunroom; pushing the love seat and the couch together to form a ‘nest’ and then fetching old comforters and pillows from the downstairs linen closet. Sometime in the early morning hours, she’d moved closer to him; briefly waking from her slumber long enough to move from her stomach to her side and then snuggling tightly into him. It’s a common occurrence if she has a bad dream. A desire for closeness; needing the feel of his much larger and bulkier frame against hers, quickly comforted by the warmth that radiates from it. His own eyes had never opened, body moving instinctively as he slid one arm between her head and the pillow while the other wrapped around her waist; drawing her even tighter against him, palm flat against her stomach and his face buried in her hair. 

In the years he’d spent between his first marriage falling apart and meeting Esme, he’d gotten used to sleeping alone; enjoying the space and the freedom that came with having the entire bed to himself. In Dhaka, he’d been more than prepared to sleep on the floor until tempers flared; a heated argument erupting, fuelled by both sexual frustration AND tension, and his worry and fears surrounding what he was actually feeling towards her. It had taken some getting used to; having a body in bed with him throughout the night and waking up with them still there in the morning. But the adjustment had come quick, and by the third night he’d found himself actually enjoying the way she’d move closer to him; loving the feel of her skin against his and the brush of her hair and that soft, beautiful scent that lingered in it. Now he struggles to find rest without her. Used to the sound of her breathing and the weight of slender frame against his and the little noises she makes in her sleep; the soft sighs and the occasional murmur and giggles and the moments she starts to carry on very detailed conversations. All those little things that make her, her. And that he misses horribly when he’s away from home.

She rolls over to face him, eyes remaining closed as she issues a long, soft sigh and her hand comes to rest on his hip. The tips of her fingers dip below the waistband off his sweats; thumb repeatedly brushing against the slice of skin between the top of his pants and the hem of his t-shirt. For several minutes he watches as she sleeps. Eyes taking in every inch of her face; smiling and marvelling at the thought of how he’d not only somehow managed to both find her, but have her fall in love with him. She’s beautiful; the freckles splashed across and down the bridge of her nose, the long, dark eyelashes that skim the tops of her cheeks, the curve of her lips and the smooth line of her chin. It’s in those quiet moments where he only sees the damage done to her; the handful of small scars left behind from Mark’s fists and whatever ‘weapon’ he could get his hands on; electrical cords, wire hangers, heavy work boots and porcelain mugs and plates. There’s more. So much more. Disturbing ways that her ex husband had come up with to torture her both physically AND mentally. 

There’d been other abuse as well; moments she’d been forced into sex itself or terrified into performing acts. And while it’s all equally vile and disturbing, THAT bothers him more than anything else. The fact that someone could violate and betray her in such a disgusting way. Someone that was supposed to love her; who’d taken vows to honor her and cherish her and care for her. And when she finally confessed the true extent of the abuse, the full story had sickened him; horrified and enraged at the thought of anyone touching her...the love of his life...in such a way. And it’s amazing. The fact that she’d not only managed to survive the abuse with her spirit and sanity intact, but that she’d been so willing and able to trust him. Giving everything of herself from that very first night in Dhaka; placing both her body and her heart in his hands and having all the faith in the world that he wouldn’t destroy them.

He places a palm over her ear; fingers splayed against her dark tresses and his thumb tracing the faint scar that cuts through the middle of her right eyebrow and travels up into her hairline. And when his hand moves to the back of her head and his lips find her brow, she gives another sigh; long and content, warm breath wafting against his skin. A soft smile curving her lips as her eyes flutter open and meet his.

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” he greets, and combs his hand through her hair, allowing the silky strands to slip slowly through his fingers. Lips pressing against her brow, followed by the bridge of her nose. 

The smile broadens and those dark eyes sparkle. “Morning.”

“Morning. You good?”

“For the most part. You alright?”

“I’m perfect. It actually turned out to be a lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. You sleep okay?”

Esme shrugs. “I’ve had better.”

“You got up pretty early. Bad dream?”

She nods.

“You want to tell me about it or…?”

“Not really. It’s not something I want to relive.”

“Was it about me?”

“And Ovi. And me.”

“So a Dhaka dream?”

“Unfortunately. The first time there. And I haven’t had a dream about that in a long time. I was kind of hoping I’d never have one again, but....”

“Like Doctor Klein said, it’s never going to go away completely. It DID happen. We can’t pretend it never did.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to dream about it. It was bad enough living it. Do I really have to go through it all over again? While I’m asleep? It’s been twelve and a half years. Since it happened. And I haven’t had a dream about it in at least three. Now all a sudden it’s starting up again? What the hell is that about?”

“Me going away probably brought up some bad shit. And you’ve been stressed. That’ll do it.”

“I’m always stressed at Christmas. I always work myself up. Over stupid shit.”

“Doesn’t help that your mum sent that stuff from the kids and she’s been calling five times a day.”

“She knows what she’s doing, you know. This is a ploy. To fuck with me. She doesn’t bother for years and then all of a sudden decides to play the role of the perfect, doting grandmother? How long has she spent purposefully ignoring our kids? Treating them like second class citizens? Playing favourites? She pretty much stopped keeping track after Declan. I’m surprised she even remembered we had three more after him.”

“I’m kind of surprised she even remembered ANY of their names.”

“She’s not doing it for them. It’s not because she loves them and wants to spoil them. Her love is conditional. It always has been. And she knew getting in contact would bother me. That it would get under my skin and I’d dwell on it and I’d eventually cave and get in contact with her. Isn’t it enough that I sent a text message thanking her? Or that I’ll have the kids make thank you cards and send them to her? Do I REALLY have to talk to her?”

“Normally I’d say just ignore her and I’d remind you that you don’t owe her or anyone else in your family anything, but she’s only to keep calling. She’s only going to step it up and get worse. And seeing as we’d like to enjoy Christmas and have a nice peaceful holiday…”

“Maybe I should let my phone die and we’ll just use yours. Chances are she won’t message you.”

“The perks of being at the top of her most hated list, I guess. Why don’t you just block her?”

“Because then she WILL get a hold of you. And that won’t end well. You’re due for losing your shit on someone. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Not like she wouldn’t deserve it.”

“I’ll just keep ignoring her. Maybe she’ll get the picture and just give up.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just talk to her and let her say what she has to say? Let her run her mouth and hang up on her. Then block her. Boom. Done.”

“I don’t want to hear her shit though. I’m already not in a good place. Mentally, speaking. Why let her make it worse? That’s just asking for trouble. And I really do not want to spend my Christmas doped up on Valium or drunk off my ass. Maybe you could message her. From my phone. Pretend you’re me. Telling her off.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll know it’s me. But I’ll take one fo the team. She already hates me and wishes I was dead. Can’t get any worse than THAT.”

“Who gives a fuck what she says. Isn’t that what you always say? Fuck what my family says? Let’s NOT talk about them.”

******

She wriggles closer to him; the fabric of her plaid shirt pressed against his chest and her cheek resting on his pillow. A hand sliding under his tee and over his ribs and around to his back; fingertips repeatedly grazing up and down his spine. And he lays a palm on the back of her head and presses his lip to her temple; allowing them to linger there for several seconds before resting the side of his nose against hers. Neither speak as time ticks on. Eyes closed and warm breath tickling skin. The tips of his fingers burrowed in her hair and gently massaging her scalp as hers continue their exploration of his back; travelling over the various and tracing the outline of the tattoo that sits between his shoulders. It’s when she reaches the scar left behind from Nathan’s attack that he pulls back to look at her, finding those dark, soulful eyes staring up at him.

“Does it hurt?”

Tyler shakes his head. “Not this morning.” Some days there’s discomfort there. More a tightness than an actual ache; damage done to the nerve sometimes causing loss of sensation into his hip and down the back of his leg. Other times it feels as if the wound is freshly acquired; a burning and throbbing that reminds him of the moment Nathan had stuck his fingers into the bullet hole to cause more pain and inflict greater damage. 

“It’s been okay? For the most part?”

“More good days than bad days. Sometimes it feels like there’s something stuck in there; moving around and pressing against shit.”

“There’s no actual chance of that, right? That they left something in there? I mean, they showed me the bullet. They got it all out. Or at least it looked like it did. Do you think something could have been left behind? A small fragment? Do you think…?”

“I think you need to stop worrying. It’s been five years. Almost six.”

“Even after twelve years, I don’t think you fully comprehend that I CAN’T stop worrying. It’s who I am. I worry about the people I love. And I love you a bit more than everyone esle, so…”

“A bit more, huh?”

She grins and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Just a bit. You know what would be nice? If we could stay here all day. Right here. Cuddled up just like this.”

“It would be,” he agrees, and slides his forearm between her shoulder and the cushions; hand coming to rest on her upper arm, thumb repeatedly brushing against smooth skin. “But..”

“No,” Esme protests, and nuzzles her face into his neck; head under his chin and her nose pressed against his Adam’s Apple. “No ‘buts’. I don’t want to hear any ‘buts’.”

“As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, we DO have kids. Who very shortly are going to discover we’re not upstairs and come looking for us.”

“Let them fend for themselves. We deserve a break. A mommy and daddy break.”

“Few more months, babe. And then two weeks. Just us.”

“In Santorini,” she reminds him.

“Wherever you want to go, that’s where we’ll go.”

“Still doesn’t mean I WANT to move anytime soon. I’d still rather lie here with you all day. Preferably with less clothes on.”

“I was hoping for totally naked, myself.”

“Me too. Just lie, totally naked, and make love. All day?”

“All day?”

She pulls back to look at him; a grin playing on her lips and her eyes sparkling playfully. “What? You don’t think you have it in you anymore?”

“I was more worried about you no longer being able to handle that kind of thing.”

“Oh don’t you worry about me. You know how resilient and tenacious I am. And how I’m fully committed when I’m really into something.’

“I’ve seen all of that first hand. I could handle it. I’d need water and food breaks, but I’d be game.”

Placing her elbow on the cushion below, she props the side of her head in her upturned palm, fingers of the other hand tracing the tattoo that decorates the left side of his neck. “Remember our little apartment? Outside of Sydney?”

“I do. I remember it very well.”

“When you finally got out of the rehab place and were finally able to live there full time? Instead of just weekends home? We had A LOT of those days in bed. Enjoying each other as much as we wanted. Rarely wearing clothes even when we DID leave the room.”

“The good old days, you mean?”

“We had some really good times in that little apartment. It was kind of weird though, don’t you think? Living together and having a baby while still in the process of really getting to know one another? It was strange. How we tackled things. Wasn’t exactly a normal way of going about it.”

“I figured we didn’t start out normal, so why bother going that way?”

“There was definitely nothing conventional about how we met. It’ll make a great story one day. For one of our kids to tell on our fiftieth anniversary.”

“Only thirty eight more years to go. Think you can handle it?”

“I think I’ll be okay. Do you think YOU can?”

“I’m pretty sure that if we could survive the past twelve years...especially the last five...that there's nothing we CAN'T get past.”

“Listen to you all sappy first thing in the morning,” she teases, and hooks a finger around the chain that dangles from his neck and pulls him into a kiss. “By the way, your daughter and I had a very interesting conversation yesterday. While you were out with the rest of the spawn.”

Sighing heavily, he presses a final kiss to her forehead and then rolls onto his back; hands pushing through his hair before clasping them together at the nape of his neck. “If it’s about periods or boys, I do NOT want to hear it.”

“I’ll go easy on you; I think I’ve tortured you enough for the time being. I still say you need to be prepared. Just in case…”

“And I’ll let you do what you need to do to get me prepared. I have faith in you. That you won’t throw me to the wolves.”

“I would never.” She rolls onto her stomach and props herself up on both elbows. “And this isn’t about Millie herself. Just something she’s concerned about.”

“And you promise it’s not about her period or boys?”

“I promise. It actually surprised me. And I thought with having a mercenary husband and after birthing four boys, that there was nothing that could possibly surprise me anymore.”

“Is she okay? Millie?”

“She’s fine. She’s Millie. There’s nothing wrong with her. Like I said, it isn’t really about her. It’s about something she’s worried about. And to be honest, I’m kind of worried about it too. A lot worried, actually.”

“You’re starting to worry ME now.”

“It’s about Alannah. And her home life.”

“About how badly it sucks?”

“Pretty much. I mean, you’ve seen it first hand. You’ve been in that home. You’ve talked to her parents. You know what they’re like.”

“If you mean emotionally absent and full of shit, yeah, I’ve seen it. Those people are fucked up, babe. I don’t know how you can have that much money and have nothing all at the same time. I don’t get it; how people can be that soulless and empty. And that's saying something when it comes from a guy that kills people for a living.”

“Normally this is where I give you a stern talking to about how that’s not all you do, but I’ll let it slide. For now. You’ve been in that home. A handful of times. You’ve talked to them. On the outside, everything looks great. They drive luxury cars, they wear designer clothes, her mother is practically dripping in expensive jewelry everytime I see her. I mean, they send her to a really expensive private school. They put on a pretty good show, you have to admit.”

“It’s what they want people to see. They want everyone to think everything is perfect. That they have a great life. Trust me, there’s nothing great about it. Not for the kid, anyway. And I grew up with someone with no soul or moral compass. That house? Worse vibes than the one I was raised in.”

“Which is saying a lot. You lived a shitty life. You’d recognize the warning signs. You were THAT kid.”

“So were you. You didn’t get your ass handed to you on a daily basis, but the mental stuff is just as bad. If not worse sometimes.”

“So we BOTH know how horrible it is. Growing up where we’re not wanted. And I know my mom always put on a big show for everyone. Acted like life was amazing and that she was the perfect mother. Behind closed doors? Mommy fucking dearest. Both of us deserved so much better growing up And so does Alannah.”

“I agree. She does. So where do we come into this? What’s Millie worried about?”

“It’s not just Millie that’s worried. I am too. I know how bad a crappy upbringing can fuck someone up. I’m a mess. And most of it leads right back to my mom. I’m the first to admit that I’m pretty fucked up. That I’ve got some long term issues I do battle with every day. Because of her. In the same way you have your own things; related to your dad.”

“Okay…”

“I don’t want that happening to her. I don’t want her turning into me. I don’t want her ending up with a guy like Mark because she has zero self worth and doesn’t think she deserves better. I don’t want her being forty years old and married to a second guy -an amazing guy, for the record- and completely unable to fully appreciate him because of some shit experience. I don’t want her turning out like this. I don’t want her spending her life hating herself and thinking she’s garbage because that’s all she was told she was. I don’t want some other guy ending up like you; loving someone so wholly and completely yet having to right another man’s wrong. That’s not fair. To you. Or to whatever guy she ends up with.”

“Babe, you…”

“Don’t try and deny it, okay. Don’t try and play it down. I know what I’m like. I know how bad I can get. You’ve spent the last twelve years having to prove you’re not him. And that isn’t fair. And I’m sorry. For ever making you feel like you’re not good enough or that you’re somehow like him. Because you’re not. You are so far from being anything like him. I’ve never meant to hurt you. And if I knew how to stop being this way…”

“Esme…” He lays a hand on the back of her neck and lifts his head to kiss her. “...stop. I love you. I get it. Why you are the way you are. In the same way you get why I’m the way I am. And you know what? We’re both fucked up. But somehow it works. WE work.”

“I just don’t want Alannah ending up like this. She’s still so young. There’s time to stop it. Before it happens.”

“How? You’re not her mother. What are you going to do? Go over there and over advice? Teach some parenting classes? Because that will go over REALLY well.”

“I’m hardly the person who should be teaching parenting classes. I’m not exactly perfect myself.”

“Your kids think you are. I think you are.”

“You think the sun shines out of my ass and that I poop glitter and fart rainbows. You’re hardly a good judge. But…” she leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. “...I love you for always wanting to stroke my ego. For always looking at me like butterflies fly out of my butt.”

“Your ass is nice, but it’s not THAT nice. And this stuff with Alannah. What can we do about it? She already spends more time here than at her own place. What more do you want?”

“Well she obviously likes being here. You’ve seen her at her own house. She doesn’t smile, she barely talks, hardly eats. Doesn’t even make eye contact with people. It’s like she’s nothing but a shell. And then she comes here and she’s completely different. She’s smiling and she’s laughing and she’s so loveable and sweet. And helpful. She’s a good kid. A good kid that deserves so much better.”

“You’re still not telling me what you think we can do about it. And we’re not moving here, so don’t even bring that up. We’ve talked about that. Numerous times. This isn’t the place for us. Not on a permanent basis:”

“I know. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to live here full time. I love where we are. It’s private and it’s quiet and it’s beautiful. That’s home. No other place can even come close to that. It’s nice to visit here, but living? Definitely not a good idea. Especially for you. And Tanner. You guys need the quiet and the calm.”

“So what DO you want to do? You say you want to help the kid. How do we help her?”

“Millie brought something up. An idea. And it’s not totally horrible.”

“And that is…”

“She asked if we can bring Alannah back with us. To Australia.”

“As in permanently or…?”

“Temporarily. I think. For now. I don’t know; we didn’t really get that deep into it. She suggested it and I told her that I’d talk to you. So, here I am. Talking to you.”

“We can’t just take the kid. We can’t just toss her on a plane and take her home with us. There’s this thing called kidnapping, in case you didn’t realize.”

“And I told Millie that. That we can’t just take her with us. She DOES have a family. A shitty one, but a family nonetheless. We’d have to go through a lot of steps. Just like we did with Ovi. That was a lot of work. Getting everything in order so he could go with us to Colorado. I mean, we were in Mumbai for a month while the lawyers figured everything out.”

“It was a lot of red tape. And Australia’s a lot more strict than the States. About who they let in. And we’d have to get her signed up for school. She can’t just hang around the house. We both work and the kid has to learn. It’s not like we’d just be bringing her for an extended vacation.”

“But it CAN be done. I mean, I was allowed to stay in Australia.”

“Yeah, because we were getting married and we were having a baby. Two perfectly good reasons to let you stay. We bring some random kid home with us…”

“We’d have to call the lawyer. He’d be able to advise us. On how to handle everything. He’d probably be able to handle all the paperwork. And we’re not talking about adopting her. We became Ovi’s legal guardians. That’s a whole other ballgame. We’d just be taking her on an adventure. Let her experience something new. Give her a real family. People that love her and siblings to play with and drive her crazy.”

“And then what? We just send her back home a few months? Just ship her right back to the bullshit here? That makes NO sense.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I just thought for the time being, we could help her out. Give her time away from her shitty life. And if in the end she really loves it and wants to stay, then we think about guardianship.”

“You’re talking about taking on another kid. That’ll make eight.”

“Two days ago, you wanted me to get my tubes patched up so we could have an eighth,” Esme points out.

“Yeah, one of our own. A baby. That we make. Together. Not someone else’s kid.”

“But that isn’t going to happen. We agreed on this. After the twins. That seven was enough.”

“But you’re okay with taking on Alannah? Just not with having our own baby.”

“I can’t do it again. I just can’t. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. But I am babied out. And this is a kid that needs our help. You're always the first person that WANTS to help everyone.”

“Usually when I’m helping people, I’m getting sent somewhere to kill someone. Not taking in their kids.”

“I will admit, it’s not a fool proof plan. Or much of a plan at all. And I do have my own concerns.”

He reaches out and pushes a hand through her hair; allowing the dark tresses to slip between his fingers and then looping strands over her ears. “Which are?”

“I worry about us. Me and you. Our plates are full. We have seven kids we’re raising. And we’re doing a damn good job, you have to admit. We make a really good team.”

“Yeah, we do. We always have. Right from day one.”

“But we’re also taking time to nurture us. Our relationship. That’s important. How many times has it been drilled into us? At therapy? That we need to step away sometimes and make the effort to connect and stay close and keep our bond the way it is. We’ve had to work on that. A lot. We’ve both had to step up to make sure we didn’t fall apart. To make sure we remember that we’re not just two people raising kids together. And I don’t want to lose that. Those moments with you.”

“I don’t want to lose that either. It’s a big deal to me. You know that. Keeping things together. Keeping US together.”

“And you’ve been amazing. At putting in the time and the effort. And it’s gone so well. We are so much stronger than we were five years ago. By A LOT. You know how cheesy it would always sound? When you’d hear people talking about loving someone more and more every day? I thought it was so stupid. That there was no way that was true. And in these last five years? I’ve realized how wrong I was. Because I DO love you more every day. And I’m scared something will come along and wreck that.”

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t help but worry that we’re letting Alannah down. That we’re just leaving her to suffer and grow up to be just as messed up as us. We have a chance to help her. And I don’t think my conscience will let me just walk away and leave her here. Not without at least trying to help.”

Tyler nods slowly as he considers her words; absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around his index finger. 

“You don’t think I’m selfish do you? That I want to help? Even thought I’m scared of fucking us up?”

“Actually, I think you’re selfless. Not selfish. If you’re willing to risk something to help this kid....”

“I don’t want to risk anything. That’s the problem. I want to help, but I don't want to jeopardize us. That’s the last thing I want. Because we have come so far and we are so much better now and we’re so much stronger. I do not want this to be a case of a hundred steps forward and a thousand steps back.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures her. “I won’t let that happen. We just keep doing things the way we are. We make each other a priority. Like we've been doing for five years now. Taking on Alannah is not going to change that. If she was a baby or a toddler we were bringing aboard, I’d say no way in hell. Because that would be a lot of work and yeah, things would fuck up. Between us.”

“So what can we do? To help her. You want to, right? Help her?”

“I do. But…”

“I KNEW that was coming.”

“...it’s not just as easy as taking her back with us. I wish it was. But it is NOT that simple. And you know that. From the experience with Ovi.”

“I do. I DO know that. And I told Millie as much. That we had to jump through a lot of hoops to be able to bring him with us to Colorado.”

“And I don’t mind putting in the work and calling the lawyer and putting this out there to him. But it’s only going to work if her parents are on board. And honestly, I don’t know how the fuck we’d go about that. Talking to them.”

“You talked to Mahajan. About Ovi. You went to the prison in Mumbai and spoke to him.”

“That was an entirely different situation. He knew he couldn’t provide a proper home for his kid. He knew he couldn’t keep him safe. He didn’t really have a choice, and he knew that. But I can’t just go walking into Alannah’s house and tell her parents I want to take her to Australia. I can’t just say ‘you’re shit parents, give me your kid’. They’ll tell me to fuck off and most likely call the cops.”

“I guess that wouldn’t be the perfect way to approach the subject. But we could. Talk to them. Rationally. And calmly.”

“And they could turn around and tell us both fuck off and then forbid their kid from coming over here. Which means we break Alannah’s heart AND our daughter’s.”

Sighing heavily, Esme places her forehead against his chest and groans dramatically. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“We need to figure out how to approach this. Without stirring up the hornet’s nest. And we can’t just make a decision like this overnight. We need time to talk about this. REALLY talk about it. Because this is a huge deal. This isn’t just bringing the kid for a vacation.”

“But we will? Talk more about it?”

“Can we get past Christmas first? Because I would really like to get through this holiday with what’s left of my sanity somewhat intact.”

“Maybe after New Years Eve. Then we can sit down and really talk it out. Pros and cons. The whole nine yards. We don’t need to rush into this. There’s a lot of time before we head back home. And if we DO decide to take her and her parents agree, we’ll need to give the lawyer some time to work on getting past the red tape.”

“I’m not promising anything, Me. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I want to do this and I think we should. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. But I WILL think about it. And talk about.”

“That’s all I want,” she says, and presses a kiss to his cheek and then the corner of his mouth before placing her head upon his chest. 

“You know…” he runs a palm down the length of her hair, then rests it on the small of her back. “...I don’t know what kind of hoodoo voodoo black magic you got going on, but I seem to get talked into the most fucked up shit.”

Laughing, she places her chin on his chest and looks up at him. “It’s the eyes. They get you every time.”

“And the ass. And the things you let me do to it.”

“We are NOT having that particular conversation. That’s just a no from me. We can go there, but we don’t need to discuss it. And speaking of going places, today’s the day.”

“Your little shopping trip with Desi. You ARE going to spoil yourself, yeah? No buying anything for me or the kids. We don’t need shit. This is all about you. So go crazy. Buy a whole fucking store if you want. I do NOT care.”

“Any requests? Something you’d like me to buy? Something you’d like to see me in?”

“Not really. I prefer you out of clothes, not actually IN them. But maybe something sexy?”

“Sexy as in a dress to wear for a night on the town or…?”

“Sexy as in only for my eyes to see.”

She grins. “You mean bedroom sexy.”

“Exactly.”

“I thought you didn’t care about the packaging? I thought you only cared about what’s underneath?”

“I don’t usually care. But, I do have plans. For New Years Eve. After Ovi’s wedding.”

“Really?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “What kind of plans?”

“It’s a surprise. But I think something sexy would fit right in.”

“Is it mommy and daddy ONLY plans?”

“Yes. Just us. No kids anywhere near us. No interruptions.”

“You want to have wild and crazy sex all night. The kind of wild and crazy sex that we can’t have with kids in the noise. The noisy kind of wild and crazy sex.”

“That would be nice, yeah. I would love to have some wild and crazy noisy sexy with my wife.”

“In that case…” she slides further up the couch and pushes a hand through his hair, speaking between soft pecks that she places on his hips. “...I will buy something very, very, VERY sexy. Just for you.”

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve it. You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. You’re a keeper.”

“And speaking of spoiling…” Curling an arm around her waist, he unceremoniously dumps her onto the mounds of bunched up pillows and comforters and then sits back on his heels. A grin playing at the corners of his mouth as his palms travel along the backs of her calves; fingertips grazing against the skin of her inner thighs before applying gentle pressure in silent encouragement for her to open them. “...it’s my turn.”


	14. Confrontations

“How big does my ass look in this?”

It’s the age old question: does this outfit make me look fat? Men for centuries have been making the mistake of actually answering; aware that it’s a trap but freezing up in the moment and choosing a response instead of just a vow of silence. It’s a slippery slope. Answer honestly and find yourself banished to the couch for six months to a year, tell a very obvious lie and find your sex life become barren and obsolete for the rest of your natural born life, or say the honest to goodness truth yet have it taken as bullshit and never get to sleep in the matriomonial bed again. Tyler considers himself one of the lucky few. The question isn’t posed often and when it is, she knows he speaks the truth; believing his words and accepting the compliment and having her whole day run smoothly and happily because he’d taken mere seconds to say something nice. He’s never seen her in the negative light she often paints herself in; the extra pounds and the stretch marks, the wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and the strands of gray in her hair. It all makes her who she is; hips wider because she’s given birth to HIS children, the lines by her eyes only showing when she’s smiling and adding something even extra adorable to the mix, those silvery strands in her dark dresses sparkling in the light and making her even more attractive. 

Maybe she ISN'T the same person she was twelve and a half years ago. The tiny, incredibly fit and toned little thing that had shown up on his doorstep; tattooed and pierced and full of confidence and swagger for someone so small and seemingly fragile. Walking in there like she owned the place and not even batting an eyelash at the crude and rustic living conditions or the amount of booze littering countertops and almost every open space or even the countless bottles of OxyContin sitting on the kitchen table. She hadn’t even been put off by his initial less than hospitable welcome. Ignoring both his grumpy mood and his leeriness at having a stranger in his space and serving up that beautiful, bright smile; offering an impossible small, soft hand that had been engulfed by his.

If he’s totally honest with himself, it was then that he knew shit was about to change. The way she didn’t shy away from prolonged eye contact and how their hands remained clasped a little longer than normal. When Nik had left them alone to begin the ‘getting to know your fake spouse’ process, she hadn’t been easily intimidated by either his size or his gruff nature. Laughing at his off handed remarks and not seeming the least bit nervous or awkward when he offered her a drink; downing it quicker than he’d ever seen a woman do before and not refusing when he poured her another. He’d learned in those few minutes just how deceiving looks can actually be; assuming by her petite stature and that fresh faced, ‘girl next door’ look that she was way too pure and innocent to be caught up in a world like his. What in the hell would a woman like THAT being doing getting herself mixed up in the job? Someone with so much light still remaining in their eyes; happy and bubbly despite the fucked up situation they’re so willingly throwing themselves into. He’d never come across that in the past few years as a merc; someone who hadn’t been traumatized by the things they’ve seen, heard, or done. And it had been a breath of fresh air; liking the sound of that tiny little voice and the beautiful smile and the way she’d so intently watch him and cock her head to the side while listening to him talk. 

She’d been different than anyone he’d ever met. Even outside of the job. A mere thirty minutes more than enough to discover that she wasn’t a push over; feisty and headstrong as opposed to meek and mild. And that’s what he’d been the most attracted to. The fact she hadn’t been turned off by him or her surroundings in the slightest; not afraid to engage him in conversation and push him -in a very smooth and effortless way- to keep up with her. Finding himself talking more to her half an hour than he’d spoken to anyone in the past few years. His instincts had been on high alert; assuring him that she was trustworthy and accepting and that her queries and curiosity were her being genuinely interested in him, not looking for things to judge him on. And when she’d left he’d actually found himself feeling happier and lighter than he had in a hell of a long time. Anxious about seeing her again. 

That had been the first moment of fear; the anticipation of once more coming face to face with her and getting to know more about her. Even an hour ago, he wouldn’t have given a shit; if a strange woman had been dropped at his feet, he wouldn’t have even bothered to feign interest and would have quickly dismissed them. But there’d been something about that cute little brunette. Those dark, soulful eyes and that sweet smile and that tiny voice. The way she’d looked at him when they’d first been introduced and how her palm had felt against his. It had been years since he’d felt any stirring of feeling towards someone else; convinced he was dead inside and that he’d live the rest of his life -if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch a bullet or drink himself to death- miserable and alone in that dusty little shack. Convinced that he was too much of a mess for anyone to take a chance on; an alcoholic hired gun with a checkered and fucked up past and pain killer addiction. Who in their right mind would want to take on someone like that? And did such a person even exist? Strong enough to deal with his shit and help him through it, yet compassionate and understanding enough not to judge him and condemn him for it?

He’d actually gone into the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing with cautious optimism. Staying completely sober for the twenty four hours until he saw her again; cleaning himself up and wearing proper clothes and suddenly feeling more confident and secure than he had in a hell of a long time. But it had all happened too fast, too soon; the feelings way too much to cope with and the fear of being a disappointment and a failure leading him to push her away that night at the hotel outside of Dhaka. He’d wanted to be with her; shocked by the amount of both sexual and emotional attraction he was experiencing towards her. He’’d come so close; mere seconds away from kissing her and giving in to unbridled lust and accepting her invitation to spend the night in her room. And it had been that same fear and worry that had caused him to react so badly on the job; grabbing her by the throat in an attempt to scare her away instead of having his heart broken when she could no longer put up with his shit and walked away.

It had been a complete and utter failure, of course. She hadn’t been the less bit scared. That had been an even bigger turn on; knowing how much she could actually take and just how strong she really was. And he’d known afterwards -both arms wrapped tightly and securely around her and her resting on his chest as she napped- that there was no chance of walking away. That no matter how bad the worry and the fear got, he wouldn’t be capable of letting her go. It wasn’t love. It was way too soon for that; it’s impossible to feel something so deep and profound THAT quickly. But he’d known he was well on his way to BEING in love with her. If he was lucky enough to live that long and get that chance.

Now, twelve and a half years later, he glances up from where he’s crouched in the front foyer, attempting to get the three littlest bundled into their winter gear. It’s an adventure to say the least; the climbing into snowsuits and boots and the constant search for hats and mittens that match. And it never fails; getting them completely ready and one -or more- announcing they need to use the bathroom. It’s happened twice already; Takota and Addie deciding they need to go and can’t wait until they get to their lunch destination. Brooklyn the lone holdout; smart enough to go BEFORE preparations to leave began.

“Be honest,” Esme says, as she stands at the bottom landing; a hand on the railing as she turns both sideways and backwards, enabling him to get a look at the ‘object’ in question. 

She’s not clad in her normal every day attire; baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt replaced by a pair of black leggings and a charcoal gray sweater dress cinched tightly at the waist by a wide, plain black belt. Just hint of make up graces her face; nothing more than eyeliner and mascara and a tint of blush. Sides of her hair pulled back, the braided section hanging over top the remaining tresses. And when he pauses a tad too long in answering, a frown replaces the almost nervous smile. “That bad?”

“Not bad at all. I was just thinking how nice you look. Not that you don’t look nice all the time. Just you look different. In a nice way.”

“You look beautiful mumma,” Takota praises, as a knit beanie is pulled down onto his head and mittens tugged on his hands. “You’re pretty always, but you’re beautiful NOW.”

“You are the sweetest little muffin ever,” Esme declares, as steps off the landing and takes his face in her hands; pressing a kiss to each chubby cheek and then his lips. “And daddy is teaching you VERY well.”

“Gotta start ‘em young,” Tyler reasons, then reaches for the handle on the front door. “Out. Before you start sweating. Or have to go to the bathroom again.”

“My feet are already sweaty,” Addie complains, as she yanks a purple and pink striped beanie down over her forehead. “I don’t like sweaty feet. I don’t like boots. Or shoes.”

“I feel your pain.” He pulls the zipper of her coat up to her chin. “Outside. Tell TJ and Millie I’ll be out in a second. No going outside the gate.”

“It’s scary outside the gate,” Brooklyn says, as she falls in line behind her siblings as they stomp out the door and onto the front porch. “Too many cars. And noise. And people. I don’t like people.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Esme remarks as playfully pulls her husband’s hat down over his eyes, then gives his shoulders a tight squeeze. “I wonder where she gets THAT from?”

He fixes the beanie; pushing it back off his forehead and then tending to the laces on his boots. “Why do you blame me for everything? The way they bitch and moan about the cold, the way they hate socks and shoes, this pout that they supposedly all have.”

“There’s nothing supposed about it. They all have the pout. Which they inherited from YOU.”

He shoots her a scowl over his shoulder. “I don’t pout.”

“Like shit you don’t. You DO pout. And I have more than one piece of photographic evidence, thank you very much.”

“I don’t care what any of those photos say. That is not a pout.” He grimaces as he stands, the tightness -and accompanying gnawing pain- in the knee and back a little more intense than usual. “It’s a frown.”

“It’s a pout. A very vicious one. One that says you might bite someone’s head off if they get too close.”

“It’s not a frown then, is it. If it’s mean. Pouts aren’t mean. Pouts are sad. I’m not sad if I’m wanting to bite someone’s head off.”

“We are going to have to agree to disagree on this,” she says, and smoothes down the front of his front of Henley style shirt before reaching for the zipper on his jacket. 

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as she tends to him. It’s something he’s gotten used to over the years; her need to provide even the simplest level of care for the people that she loves. It’s the motherly instinct that runs strongly through her veins; unable to turn off the need to help and nurture, even when it comes to him. 

“You know, I DO know how to do this stuff for myself.”

“I know,” she chirps, and then stands on her tiptoes to pull his beanie down further. “But I like doing it. I like taking care of you. You think you’d be used to it by now. I’ve only been annoying the shit out of you with it for the past twelve and half years. Your back’s sore?”

“And my knee.”

“Maybe when we get home you should call and get them looked at it. Better to be safe than sorry. They’ve been acting up pretty bad lately.”

“Just the cold weather. Nothing serious. You need to stop worrying so much.”

She stares pointedly up at him.

“I know. You can’t help it. But can you tone it down just a bit? I’m fine. It’s the weather. It makes the arthritis act up. Just like the surgeon said it would.”

“You realize we don’t have to come here for Christmas, right? We could save this place for getting away during warmer weather. We do NOT have to come during the winter.”

“The kids like coming here; the whole white Christmas thing. And so do you. I can deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“But you shouldn’t have to just ‘deal with it’. Your comfort is important to me, too. The kids and I would cope. With Christmas in Australia. It’s no big deal. If it’s that painful…”

“It’s not. It just acts up from time to time. More uncomfortable than actual pain. You’d know if I was in pain, trust me.”

“And you’re taking meds? You’re not trying to go without?:

“I am taking them the exact way they’re supposed to be taken. Take it down a notch, okay? I know you worry. I know you want to take care of me. And believe, I love you very much for that. But you also drive me a little fucking insane.”

“I happen to love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass. And if you’re that uncomfortable and it’s only getting worse…”

“Stop,” he gently orders, taking her face in both of hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. “And by the way, speaking of your ass…” Placing his hands on his shoulders, he runs them slowly down her arms. Fingertips drifting over the curves of her wrist and over the top of her hand; palms briefly settling on her hands before travelling to her butt. “...it looks fucking amazing in that outfit. And I think you should wear it more.”

She grins. “What happened to wanting me to wear yoga pants all the time?”

“Oh, those are still my favourite. But I’m okay if you wear this too.”

“Just for you, I’ll add it to my steady rotation of clothes. I’d hate to deprive you of any quality ass watching time.”

“You spoil me.” As he leans down to kiss her, she perches herself on her tiptoes and wraps both arms around his neck. Eagerly responding at first, then giggling when he brings his palms against the cheeks of her ass in sound, stinging smacks before aggressively pinching. “You do look beautiful, by the way. I mean, you always do, but…”

“Extra beautiful?”

“Very,” he confirms, and kisses her once more; longer and deeper, hands slipping from her ass in order to softly glide up and down her back. “Think I should lock the door? So we can have a quickie right here?”

“As tempted as I am, that’s definitely NOT a good idea. You’re going to have to be patient and wait for later. When everyone’s in bed."

“No sneaking into the pantry or the guest bathroom? These are some pretty shitty wifing skills on your part.”

“Just the most horrible wife ever. In the history of marriage. You poor, poor man. I am sorry you have go one day with getting one blow job instead of two.”

“That’s ground for divorce,” he teases. 

“I’ve been way too good to you over the course of the last five years. You’ve come to expect these things. You don’t see me expecting to be woken up the same way every morning.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been waking you up the same way every day for nearly six years. You can’t tell me you don’t expect it. That you wouldn’t miss it if it suddenly stopped.”

“I would be extremely disappointed, actually. But seeing as you like doing it just as much as I like being on the receiving end, I know it won’t stop any time soon. I WILL make it up to you. You have my word. And I’m good on my word.”

“I have to admit, you haven’t disappointed me yet. Promise me that you’ll spoil yourself today? That you won’t buy me or the kids all kinds of shit we won’t need? I know what you’re like. I know you always plan on buying things for yourself and never do. Don’t piss me off. Don’t make me put you through a dry spell.”

“I promise that I will only spoil myself. Although I don’t see why I should bother. You do a good enough job. You’re the king of needless spoiling.”

“I spoil you because you deserve it. And because it makes me happy. That I can’t buy you shit just for the sake of buying it. Humour me, okay? Let me make up for all the times we barely had money for food and I had no idea how I was going to pay rent from month to the next.”

“Which was none of your fault,” she reminds him. “You almost died. You were in inpatient for two months. And even after you got home, you weren’t exactly well enough to work. Stop blaming yourself. It was way beyond your control. And we did fine. We managed. We didn’t have much but we were happy. All that mattered to me was that you were alive and we were together. And that our baby girl was healthy. Nothing else mattered.”

“I just like being able to give you things. Not because you need them or even necessarily want them. Just because. So shut up and let me do it, yeah? Let me spoil my wife.”

“I have a feeling this is an argument I will never win.”

“You know what? I will gladly die on this hill.”

“Speaking of hills to die on, you’ve picked a pretty big one. Taking all seven plus Alannah out at once? That takes some balls, babe. That’s some serious superhero shit. And you say you’re not brave?”

“Out of curiosity, which kids are your favorites? Because I can’t promise all seven of them will make it back. And seeing as there’s no sharks to offer sacrifices to, looks like I’m feeding them to the subway trolls.”

“You’ll be just fine. You’ve done this before; taking all the kids out at once. And you lived to tell about it. You have some serious cajones, honey. No one can ever convince me otherwise.”

“You think way too highly of me. I better go. Before someone DOES have to go to the bathroom. And if I have go through that one more time…” 

“You are a brave, brave man, Tyler Rake. I don’t want to ever hear you say any different. I’d say have a good time, but we’re talking about seven kids plus an extra, so…”

“Just keep your fingers crossed my sanity stays intact. Or what’s left of it anyway.” Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into one final kiss; her tiny frame once more perched on her tiptoes as she leans into him. It’s become their ‘thing’; never leave the home without a hug and a kiss and telling the other how you feel about them. Life is just too short and unpredictable; the incident five years ago reminding them just how quickly everything can change and be snatched away from you. And he pulls her close; a forearm along the small of her back and his lips against her temple. “I love you.”

Giving his neck a final squeeze, she runs her fingernails along the nape and then brushes her lips against his cheek. “I love you. Be good. No feeding any of the children to the subway trolls. I happen to quite like all of them.” 

“I’m not making any promises. Remember what I said; about spoiling yourself. And about something sexy.”

“I still think I should get a hint. About your plans for after Ovi’s wedding.”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.” He reaches for the handle on the door. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah…” she smiles, shooting him a wink as he steps out onto the snow covered porch. “...you will.”

*****

Even a simple two block walk is an adventure with eight kids in tow. The oldest leading the pack while the stragglers and the littlest ones follow; tiny legs finding it easier to navigate unshoveled sidewalks when they have much larger footprints to step into. For the most part they are an amicable and well behaved group. Millie and Alannah with their locked arms and their high pitched giggles and seemingly endless chattering, TJ with a protective slung across Tanner’s shoulders and always ready and willing to help him to either climb over snow covered curbs or carrying him entirely. Declan and Brooklyn are the ‘wild ones’; sandwiched in the middle of the group to avoid them running too far ahead and kept in line by a stern Millie threatening to clothesline them if they dare jump into the puddles of slush. Takota and Addie are the slow pokes; tiny bodies weighed down by heavy boots and layers of clothes, always stopping every few feet to make footprints in the higher banks or to ball up snow and toss it at each other. And while the frequent stops and the repetitive -yet calm and patient- requests to just ‘get a move on’ would likely be annoying to most parents, Tyler relishes in every second he gets to spend with his kids; knowing how quick everything can be snatched away and your life altered forever. Nothing makes him smile like the sight of those little faces turned up towards the sky; eyes closed and their noses scrunched up as they try to catch snowflakes on their tongues. And there’s no sound more beautiful than those shrieks and giggles; unleashed when he picks both of them up and tosses them into snowbanks. In the end the journey and the deeper areas of snow defeats tiny legs and he resorts to carrying them; one in each arm as they tightly cling to his neck. 

They’re shown to a booth at the back of the restaurant; upholstered in red leather and large enough to fit parties of their size. It’s chaos getting everyone undressed; arms flailing as jackets are yanked off and the straps of snow pants pushed down, littles complaining about their feet being sweaty and not thinking twice of kicking their boots off, hats and mitts having to be fetched when they slip out of sleeves and hoods and have to be fetched from under the table. They’ve eaten in the establishment enough to be seen as regulars. The havoc and noise going on unacknowledged by staff and fellow diners; the occasional sympathetic or amused smile being tossed in their direction, a handful of compliments revolving aroundt how cute the kids are and their ‘charming’ accents, praises on how well he’s handling such a large ‘brood’ and how brave he is for taking them all out at once. Even a comment about how not seeing many ‘male’ nannies even in this day and age.

“He’s not our nanny.” Brooklyn is quick to speak up. Never backing down from what she considers something ridiculous or rude. “It’s our dad. We’re all related. Except for her…” she jerks her head in Alannah’s direction. “..but she might as well be. We love her like she’s one of us. And she likes our house better. It’s more fun. Her parents are assholes.”

“Language,” Tyler admonishes, and lays a hand on the back of her head and gently pushes her in the direction of the booth. “And you don’t have to tell everyone our business.”

“It’s totally obvious you’re not our nanny. We all look alike. Well, maybe not Declan. He’s the odd duck.”

“Hey!” Declan objects from his place between Millie and TJ. “I look like grandma Adeline. Which was dad’s mom. So that means I look like dad. Just a red headed version. I still look like him though.”

“You don’t even have blue eyes,” Brooklyn argues, as she slides onto the bench and wriggles her way across. “You don’t look like daddy at all. Well, maybe his nose. And his ears.”

“I don’t have blue eyes either,” Addie pipes up, as she’s helped out of her coat and shoves her hat and mittens into the sleeves. “Yet daddy is my daddy. I don’t look like him at all.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re adopted,” Declan says.

“I am not! I look like mommy! Daddy says so. That I look just like her. That if mommy got put into a shrinking machine, you’d get me. That’s what you said, right daddy? That I look like a tiny version of mommy.”

“You look just like her,” he confirms, and slides the straps of her snow pants down her arms. “A little version. Her mini me.”

“Like TJ is yours, right? Only TJ isn’t so little. He’s tall and big. I’m short and wee. Why am I short and wee? Why can’t I be tall like you guys?”

“All the good genes ran out,” Millie explains. “By the time mom and dad got to you, there was nothing good left. You got the spare stuff.”

“You’re full of shit,” Addie counters, then smiles sheepishly up at her father. “Sorry. Language. I know, I know. But sometimes it just slips out. You’re a bad influence.”

Grinning, he removes the elastic from her lopsided ponytail and uses his fingers to comb through the messy dark tresses. “You’re going to throw me under the bus, are you?” 

“You swear all the time. Especially in the car. When people don’t use their blinkers or they drive too slow in the fast lane.”

“Or if people come too close to us when we’re in the crosswalk,” TJ adds. “Remember last year? When we were going to see mom at the store? When someone was going to run the light when we were crossing? Dad put his foot right through their front grill.”

“And said a whole lot of bad words,” Declan adds. “For everyone to hear.”

“For the record…” he gathers Addie’s hair in both hands and resets the ponytail. “...it could have been worse. I could have put my foot through his face.”

“I would have paid to have seen that,” TJ declares. “I’m almost eleven and I still haven’t seen you mess anyone up. I feel robbed.”

“I’d like to see him hand someone their ass,” Millie says. “I’ve just heard stories. I want to see it with my own two eyes.”

“You should totally beat the crap out Jacobi,” Declan chimes in. “He totally has a crush on mum. That’s not right. That’s someone else's wife. You don’t mess with someone else’s wife. Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Especially OUR mom,” Tanner adds, as he rummages through his backpack for his weighted lap pad and noise cancelling headphones. “Has he not seen our dad? Like, hello! He’s ginormous. And he looks scary too. All the tattoos and stuff? And he has a scary voice.”

“He only looks scary when he’s mad. And his voice is only scary when he yells,” Brooklyn contributes. “His normal voice isn’t scary. It’s just deep. Like Darth Vader. And mommy’s voice sounds like a little elf. It’s a really weird combo. But you should, daddy. Beat up, Jacobi. He tries to get cozy with mommy. The other day while you were away, he brought her a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. A venti. Do you know how much those things cost? He must be in love with her. You should for sure punch him in the face. At least once. Twice if you want him to stay down.”

“Listen pipsqueak, I don’t need your advice on how to knock someone out. And no one is beating anyone up. Jacobi’s a kid. He has a crush. That’s it.”

“Naw, it’s totally love,” Declan argues. “No one with just a crush buys you Starbucks. Dunkin’ Donuts, maybe. Not the expensive stuff.”

“You all need to relax.” Sliding into the booth, he reaches for Addie and places her on his lap. She and Brooklyn have their own calendar they’ve created; keeping a very accurate and detailed log on the dates and times each got to sit with daddy in order to determine whose turn it is and avoid arguments. “I don’t think your mom has a thing for Jacobi. I don’t think you have to worry about him ever becoming your step dad.”

“Desi might,” Takota pipes up. “He likes mummy. They always spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s mum’s best friend,” TJ informs his littlest brother. “He’s like an older brother to her. She IS not going to leave dad for Desi. She’s not going to leave dad for anyone. He’d have to be the one to screw up and leave.”

“No one is leaving anyone for someone else. You guys are too much. Just decide what you want, okay? You’re giving me more gray hair here. Let’s play the quiet game. Everyone look at your menu and pick something. And don’t talk while doing it.”

“The quiet game doesn’t work,” Tanner says, and pulls a stuffed koala from his backpack and hands it across the table to Addie. “You almost forgot Fredrick at home.”

“You’re the best, Tanny! Thank you!” She rubs her cheek against the toy’s faded and tattered ‘fur’ and then snuggles him tight to her chest. 

Frederick has seen his fair share of adventures; being carted all over Australia and Colorado by a much smaller and younger Millie, and his ‘koala napping’ in Mumbai five years ago. If he thinks long and hard enough about it, Tyler can still remember the terror of that initial night; the bedroom window open and an infant Addie screaming from the discomfort of the cool air. His instincts had immediately told him to fear the worst. That it wasn’t something as innocent and simple as one of Anil’s workers opening the window and forgetting to close it. And when that bear had shown up on the doorstep of the safe house in Dhaka, his worst nightmare had been in danger of coming true. Someone with a score to settle had gotten close enough to his daughter to potentially take her right from her bed; having to reach over her and likely coming in contact with her body. In all his years on the job and as many times as his own life had been in danger, he’d never felt fear quite like that. That chill of terror that seems to take over your entire body and settle into your bones. There was always a chance of someone tracking him down out of the need for revenge; a worry that his kids could be made a target as a way of breaking him. But that was the closest anyone had ever gotten.

He’d vowed to never let that happen again. And to kill anyone that posed even the slightest bit of threat.

The silence that ensues is a welcome change; a waitress bringing coffee for him and glasses of chocolate milk for the kids and then taking their orders. TJ, Declan and Tanner watching youtube videos on the latter’s Ipad while Millie and Alannah whisper and giggle at the Instagram posts they scroll through on Alannah’s phone. The littlest busy themselves with the baskets of crayons that the restaurant had provided; scribbling and doodling on the craft paper that covers the table. All in all, they’re good kids; polite and always minding their manners, careful not to make too much noise that will bother others around them, saving the majority of their arguments and insults for the street or at home. It can’t get wild; seven little humans all talking at once and vying for attention. Christmas morning is far the most chaotic; a living room full of presents and excited chattering and squeals of joy and excitement. It’s enough to take the sting out of the memories of his past. Seeing those cute faces light up and the tears of pure happiness over receiving a much sought after item and feeling those little arms wrap around your neck and the lips that press to your cheek; those tiny voices saying thank you and telling you how much they love you.

*****

“Daddy?” Addie breaks the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Will you please help me? Will you draw a kangaroo for me? I don’t know how.”

Selecting a crayon from the basket in the middle of the table, he tends to his daughter’s request. He’d discovered at a young age that not only COULD he draw, but that he was exceptionally good at it; his mother nurturing and feeding the talent and always encouraging him by buying his pencils and sketchbooks and constantly praising his work. It was something he had enjoyed just as much as surfing or spending time outdoors, but had quickly learned to keep a secret from his father. The old man had viewed anything even remotely related to the arts as ‘girly’ and ‘pathetic’; preferring his son to pick up more manly pursuits and drilling it into his head that a ‘real man’ didn’t create. After his mom had died, his father had gone through his room and not only trashed every piece of art tapped to the wall, but burnt every sketch book and pencil in the fire pit in the backyard.

He hadn’t picked up a pencil since. Until Millie had started showing a very keen eye and skilled hand and had asked for an area in the house to be turned into her own little studio. A loft added above the new garage; a place filled with paints and pencils and easels and canvases and anything else that she could possibly need. And spending time with her in that studio and nurturing and encouraging her talent had been a way of rediscovering his own. Using it as a form of escape and relaxation when life gets too hectic and stressful or his mental health feels as if it’s spiralling out of control.

“Daddy?”

“Addie?”

“If mummy didn’t do the same job as you a long time ago, how else would you have met her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she would have come to Australia. Maybe we would have met that way. On the beach or something.”

“Would you have still liked her? If you met her that way?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person.”

“Do you think she would have liked you? If she met you a different way?”

“I think so. I hope she would have.”

“What would you have done? If you didn’t do that job?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I would have stayed in the military. Or become a fireman. Or done construction. Or built houses. Something where I could stay busy and use my hands.”

“I think you would have been a good policeman. You would have been really good at catching bad guys. I mean, that’s what you were doing in the first place. Just you weren’t a policeman. What do you think mummy would have done? If she had a different job?”

“I’m not sure. I think she would have made a really good teacher. Or a nurse.”

“Like Auntie Riley and Auntie Shaena?”

“Yup. Just like him. She’d probably work with kids though. I think your mum is meant to be around kids.”

“I think so too. She’s a really good mummy. She always plays with us and she even does dress up and makes up different names and voices for all my dolls. She’s never too busy; to have fun with us. And she gives really good cuddles and kisses too.”

“She’s an awesome mum. I definitely picked a good one to have kids with.”

“So did mummy. You guys make a good team. And you make cute kids.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Really, really, REALLY cute kids.”

“I bet she would have still liked you. If she met you a different way. I mean, you still would have been daddy. You still would have looked the same. You still would have had nice muscles.”

“Is that what mummy says she likes the best?”

“She says it’s third on her list.”

“What’s number one and two?”

“Your eyes and your smile. Your voice is number four and your butt is number five.”

“She didn’t say anything about my hands? That’s weird. For your mom.”

“Your hands were number six. And your forearms were number seven. I don’t understand that one. Mum says it’s hard to explain. Why she likes them so much. She said when she first met you, she was attracted to your face. That you had a kind of a sad face. In a beautiful way.”

“She said that?”

“Yep. She said that you had kind eyes. And that she liked how they crinkled when you smiled. That you smiled at her and you made your insides go all funny. What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “It’s nothing you need to know until you’re older. What else did she say?”

“Just that you were really good looking and she liked your haircut and your beard. And that you shared the house with a chicken. Is that true?”

“It is. I did have a chicken in the house.”

“Can we have a house chicken? When we get home can we get one?”

“No. Chickens stay outside now. No chickens in the house. They poop too much.”

“Not even if I let the chicken stay in my room?”

“Not even then. Sorry, Peanut.”

“Can I have a kitten?”

“I don’t like cats.”

“How can you not like cats? Cats are cute. They’re all fluffy and sweet and purr and stuff. How do you not like cats? Can I? Get one? For my birthday?”

“How about I talk to your mum about that? She gets the last say.”

“That’s ‘cause she wears the pants in the family.”

Tyler smirks. “Did she say that too?”

“Don’t deny it, daddy. You know mum's the boss. She just let’s you think you are. Everyone knows she rules the roost.”

“I’m going to have a talk with her later. Is this good enough? Good enough kangaroo?”

“Best kangaroo ever! Looks like Charlie. Do you think he misses us? I bet he does. I bet he’s sad that we’re not there. Because no one is giving him peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce. What if he’s mad at us? That we went away? What if he doesn’t come back? I don’t want him being mad at us.”

“I had a talk with him before we left. Told him we’d be back in a couple weeks. And that we’d give him extra lettuce when we got back. And peanut butter sandwiches.”

“Was he mad? That we were going away?”

“Nope. He was a little sad. Said he’d miss you the most. That you make the best peanut butter sandwiches.”

She tips her head back to look at him; a smile stretching from ear to ear and her dark eyes sparkling. “He did? He said that?”

“He did. He said ‘tell Addie she’s my favorite and I’ll miss her and her peanut butter sandwiches’. He said he’d be there when you got back. First thing in the next morning.”

“He’s a good little Joey. I hope he never gets tired of us and that when he grows up and has his own babies, he brings them to our house too. And then we can feed them all peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce.”

Smiling, he curls an arm around her waist and pulls her tighter into him, then presses a kiss to her cheek and then the side of her head. She’s so much like her mother; the short and petite build, the dark eyes and the beaming smile and the freckle splattered nose. And their personality is shared as well; both bubbly and light hearted and willing and eager to experience new things and meet new people. Out of all the kids, she’s the one he babies; by far the tiniest and the seemingly most fragile. But it’s the similarity to her mother that drives his need to protect and coddle her the most; reminding him of Esme and everything his wife had gone through during the entire McMann fiasco to make sure Addie was carried and brought into the world safely.

Silence one more falls on the top when the waitress returns with drink refills and their respective orders. And it isn’t until halfway through the meal when he notices Millie look up from her plate of food and towards the front door; eyes narrowing and a scowl capturing her lips. She reaches behind Declan and smacks TJ upside the head; the latter growling in protest, but then following his sister’s gaze when she nods in the direction of the door.

“What’s up with you two? What’s…?”

“It’s that lady,” Millie grumbles. “The one that came to the house looking for you yesterday.”

“That’s her?” TJ’s nose crinkles in disgust. “SHE had the nerve to shit talk mum? Oh hell no.”

Tyler makes the mistake of glancing over his shoulder; greeted by a broad smile and a wave as Natalie nudges her daughter in the direction of their booth. He inwardly lets loose a string of profanities. There’d already been enough drama caused over a simple and unassuming conversation at the park. The last thing he needs is someone...especially another woman...dropping by his house and getting too close and comfortable. The women at the soccer park and on the playground are bad enough. But at least they’re not showing up unannounced on his doorstep.

“Hey,” Natalie cheerfully greets. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“My dad’s not the only one here,” TJ responds first “You do see us, right?”

“Do you mind if we join you? If everyone shoves down just a bit…”

“We do mind,” Millie speaks up. “Very much. We’re here with our dad. It’s a family thing. We don’t even know you.”

“Amelia…” he stares at her pointedly. “...settle.”

“Dad, it’s quite obvious what and who she wants. Someone has to stick up for mum. She isn’t here to beat her ass herself.”

“I said settle. Relax. This doesn’t involve you.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and leans back against the leather of the booth and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“This isn’t a good time,” he addresses Natalie. “She’s right. This IS a family thing.”

Smirking, the neighbour nods in Alannah’s direction.

“She’s as close to family as it gets. So if you don’t mind…”

“I stopped by yesterday. To thank you for being so nice at the park. Met your wife.”

“Yeah, she told me. She also told me you weren’t the friendliest. Something about making fun of how she looks?”

“I wasn’t making fun. I was merely critiquing.”

“You can keep your critiques to yourself. My wife looks amazing. Just the way she is. And really don’t think it was appropriate; you showing up like that. It was small talk. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make it seem like anything more than that.”

“I thought we had a little...connection.”

“No. There was no connection. None. Whatsoever. I was being nice. That’s it. I’m married. And not the type of married that you’re probably used to. I’m married as in I’m not interested and nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Our dad doesn’t cheat,” TJ informs her. “And our mom is way better than you. Like, a hundred times better.”

“Tyler, stop. I can handle this. I know you’re protective of your mum, but…”

“I must have misread the signals.” Natalia gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “The way you were giving them off and the way you were…”

“I wasn’t giving off any signals. I don’t play games like that. If I was interested, you’d know. And I’m not. Interested. I have a wife. That I love more than life itself. So thanks, but no thanks. Not gonna happen. EVER. And if you don’t mind, don’t come to my house. That was way out of line. I didn’t appreciate it. There was no need for that. Unless you just wanted to ruffle feathers.”

“I never meant to cause problems. My visit was taken way out of context. I just showed up to be friendly and neighbourly. That’s it.”

“Something tells me that’s bullshit. And I’d really like it if you didn’t come around. Like I said, I’m married. Happily. VERY happily. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. So if I could get back to lunch with my kids…”

“I’m sorry to have caused you any issues. Or to have wasted your time.”

He watches her as she goes; the tightly clenched jaw and the rigid shoulders and the over aggressive way she shoves her daughter in the direction of an empty table. It’s the behaviour of a woman that is used to getting what and WHO she wants. Who isn’t used to rejection -especially public- and can’t handle being put in her place.

“I don’t know about you, dad,” TJ says, as he turns around in his seat after watching Natalie’s dramatic exit. “But I don’t trust her. She’s definitely up to no good.”

Nodding slowly, he lifts his coffee cup to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. His instincts tell him the same thing; it isn’t the last he’s seen or heard from the new neighbour. He’s witnessed that kind of behaviour before. She’s cunning and manipulative; refusing to take no for an answer and doing whatever she can to wreak havoc as a response to being shot down. But he’s faced far greater challenges and threats. Nik had learned the hard way not to fuck with his family. Being ostracized and shunned for years until she was ready to make amends for the trouble she’d caused and she’d finally moved on with Anil; getting married and having children of her own and settling nicely into a repaired and much healthier relationship with both Tyler and Esme. And if Natalie has to suffer the same embarrassing fate, he has no qualms about dealing her that particular hand.

More than ready, willing, and able to protect and defend the life he has.


	15. The Pain of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached. 

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing. 

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.” 

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart. 

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?” 

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses. 

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace. 

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable. 

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message. 

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”


	16. Chapter 16

There’s a sense of peacefulness that accompanies a snowfall.

A lull that comes when the very first flakes appear; a decrease in foot and automobile traffic bringing a much welcomed silence. As if the world has suddenly come to a standstill; the movements and sounds of life momentarily pausing. It’s almost an eerie quiet. No roars of engines or the honking of horns or conversations floating on the air; nothing but the slow and steady trickle of white. Suddenly the ordinary and often forgotten sounds seem amplified; the humming of the street lights and the tick of the timer on the crosswalks. It brings a contentment and comfort that isn’t easily explained. A relief that comes when a busy world suddenly comes to a halt; the stress in your shoulders loosening and your jaw relaxing and all your worries and fears temporarily abandoned. The landscape appears more beautiful; bare tree branches coated in snow, the icicles that hang from fire escapes and wrought iron railings glistening like the finest of crystal, Christmas lights strung in bushes and around porches glowing brightly under blankets of white. 

He’s come to appreciate these moments; the quiet yet beautiful simplicity. The tickle of flakes as they fall upon the tip of his nose and gather at the ends of his eyelashes. The faint yet icy cold breeze that brings a flush to his cheeks and the fresh, crisp smell that hangs in the air. The scent of freshly roasted chestnuts and the sound of snow crunching under the soles of his boots. He had spent five years in Colorado yet had never truly appreciated his surroundings; the view of the mountains from his back deck, the bubbling and trickling of the creek at the end of their property, the stunning sunsets that painted the sky vivid shades of purple, orange, and gold. And the dark of the night; black skies dotted with thousands of glistening stars. He hadn’t been happy there; thousands of miles away from his home and trying desperately to fit in. Life had been stressful. His family growing yet money tight and bills mounting; no promise of relief on a meager handyman’s wage. He’d gone back to the job. A decision he’d made without even consulting his wife and dropping on her less than twenty four hours before he touched down in Colombia. It had all gone downhill from there. The faint and barely visible cracks in their marriage suddenly so apparent; nights going to bed angry and separately, harsh words exchanged out of spite and animosity, days often passing without even making eye contact, never mind speaking to each other. And he’d done what he’d always did when he started feeling like a disappointment: he’d ran. Throwing himself headlong into work. It was the one thing he was good at. The one thing he always had complete control over. Never feeling like a failure. 

Then he’d hit rock bottom. A return to the bottle and the painkillers. His mental health quickly tanking. His relationship crumbling. Six months living in a crappy little hotel room after she’d finally had enough; refusing to allow that kind of behaviour around the children. And he’d deserved it. He was angry and bitter. He had broken promises and told countless lies. He’d lost his patience and flown into rages and put his fists through walls. It had taken half a year to get his shit together. To fight for his family; agreeing to a stint in rehab and promising to attend marriage counselling and vowing to do whatever it took to make things better between them. To be the man that she needed AND deserved. They’d both busted their asses; addressing both their individual issues and the ones that existed as a couple. Finally sitting down and hearing each other out; staying silent while hurt feelings were spilled and difficult confessions were made and all of the guilt, regret, and anger were finally dragged out into the open. And as much as it had all hurt, it HAD been what was best for them. They grew stronger. Promising to never take one another for granted again. To practice truth instead of deceit. To swallow pride and acknowledge hurt and the offence taken by the other. 

Years later, he can look back on the darker and more difficult times without feeling a sense of guilt and responsibility. Learning through countless hours of therapy that he was being held back by the past; unable to truly move on and be happy because he was too busy judging himself for things that had been out of his control. His mother’s death and the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father. His son’s cancer. His own fears and weaknesses causing him to flee; unable to witness the suffering of his only child and ultimately making the horrible decision he had. The absolution he’d been searching for was never going to come until he truly forgave himself. Until he could look at himself in the mirror and no longer see a monster staring back at him, he’d never find peace. He had to scratch and crawl his way to a place of acceptance and acknowledgement. Teaching himself how to sit back and TRULY see everything he had right in front of him; a woman that loved him with every inch of her heart AND soul, beautiful children that he’d had a hand in creating, a life that so many people envied and would give anything to have. Once he was able to take those steps in both forgiving himself and recognizing his blessings and the chances he’d been given, clarity finally began to set in. The happiness he felt was genuine; smiling more, laughing easier, able to both express his feelings AND show them. 

Moving back to Australia had been the best decision he could have ever made. Things were different there; a calmer and more relaxed and laid back lifestyle. His marriage flourished. His children did better in school and thrived in their environment; surrounded by water and grounded by being able to put their feet in the sand. It all started to make sense. His purpose in life as a husband and a father filling the holes he never even knew existed; completing him in a way that he never thought possible. And suddenly he began noticing the little things. The sound of the waves as they rolled up onto the shore, the smell of salt that hung heavily in the air, the feel of the sand as it moulded around his heels and slid through his toes. The way his wife woke in the morning; the content sigh and the little murmurs and the way the tips of her toes would peek out from under the comforter when she stretched. Paying attention to the way she communicated without uttering a single word; the facial expressions and the hand gestures and the body language. 

Most of all, he finally ‘saw’ her for the first time; the way she showed love without actually verbalizing it. The looks she’d give him from across the room. How she’d take his face in her hands when he kissed her or the way she’d gently sweep the hair out of his eyes or off his forehead. How she always found a way to touch him; sitting close enough so their knees or thighs touched or standing behind his chair and wrapping his arms around his neck and placing her chin on his shoulders. How she’d place her foot on top of his underneath the dinner table or take his hand when they were in the car or pushing her fingers through his while they watched television. Even the simple act of bringing him a bottle of water while he was working outside or engrossed in a gruelling gym session was done with love; the way she’d sit quietly on the sidelines with her head cocked to the side and a soft smile of admiration curving her lips. Waiting for him to come to her; never wanting to appear too pushy or come across as ‘babying him’. Always knowing exactly what he needed and acting upon it; knowing he’d never express it himself and never judging him for those weaker and more vulnerable moments.

And as horrible as their return to Dhaka had been and despite the injuries he’d suffered and how close to death he’d come, it had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. It had made him realize just how lucky he actually was; his wife stronger and more resilient than even he had ever given her credit for. Seeing first hand just how much she does love him; nurturing him and tending to wounds and willingly taking on the role as caregiver. Never complaining about how difficult it was; always assuring him that he wasn’t a burden and that he was far from being weak or pathetic. He began appreciating her and respecting her in a way he never had before, and in turn it made the bond between them even stronger. Not just spouses and parents, but best friends, lovers, confidants, and protectors. 

He watches her now; as they pause at the curb and wait for their chance to cross the road. The ends of her hair poking out from the bottom of the pink, purple, and grey striped beanie she sports; a handmade present given to her by Desi’s mother their first Christmas in the city. She rocks back and forth on her heels; head tipped slightly towards the sky and her nose scrunched as snowflakes gather on the tip. Allowing them to linger briefly before swatting them away with one of her wool mittens. Her other hand -impossibly small and dainty- is clutched tightly in his; both inserted in his jacket pocket for added warmth. Even from day one he’d noticed that despite the enormous difference in both height and weight, they seemed to fit perfect together; fingers easily entwining, her body smoothly curving into his, her face fitting so perfectly in that nook between his neck and shoulder. He’d never experience that before; feeling as if someone was made just for him. And he’d always thought such a premise was absurd; a lone person put on the earth just for you to discover. If you were lucky enough. Yet he can’t help but think that maybe it’s true. That their unconventional meeting and their lust and passion driven start and their flight for survival were simply stepping stones on the path they were both meant to take. That the struggles and losses in their lives drove them to become who they are; two broken and damaged people that needed to meet in order to heal. That somehow, in a life filled with poor choices and terrible mistakes, he’d done something so perfect and so right that this is the woman fate had assigned to him; bringing her into his life at the most unexpected and dangerous time.

“If it keeps up like this, we’re going to have a lot of shovelling to do,” Esme remarks, and brushes snow from the shoulders of her jacket. “Makes it perfect though, don’t you think? This amount of snow just in time for Christmas? It just makes it so much better, I think.”

He doesn’t respond; hand tightening around hers as continues to watch her. Those big brown eyes sparkling in the glow of the streetlight, her flushed cheeks, the way she swipes the tip of her tongue across cold and chapped lips. And when he doesn’t answer, she tilts her head to the side and looks up at him; an almost embarrassed smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“What?” she asks, and gives a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful.”

The smile widens. She doesn’t need to say a word in reply; everything she’s thinking and feeling written on her face and evident in her eyes. A mixture of appreciation and love; a look that he’s seen many times before but never seems to tire of. 

He places his free hand on the small of her back and pulls her into him; lips cold yet smooth as they cover hers in a long, soft kiss that sees her perching on her tiptoes and curling her arm around his neck as she eagerly responds. 

And he keeps kissing her. Until they’ve missed several chances to cross the street.

*****

Their walk takes them three blocks from home; a little Italian joint famed for their bruschetta bread and caramel dulce cheesecake. It’s an unexpected date night; delicious take out and a bottle of her favourite wine chilling at home and the hot tub already bubbling and waiting to be inhabited. They try to make their alone moments count; understanding the importance of keeping their bond and their connection alive and acknowledging the different roles they play in each other’s lives. He doesn’t seem to mind the cold when he’s with her; their joined hands and the conversation they indulge in and the sound of her voice helping him forget about the snow and the frigid temperatures. Nothing else seems to matter when he’s alone with her. Completely tuning out the rest of the world and concentrating on the words coming out of her mouth; always in awe of how cheerful and bubbly and ‘light’ she’s remained despite everything they’ve been through. She’s resilient; allowing the harder times to dent and tarnish but never break her. Easily the strongest person he’s ever known; small in stature but enormous in heart and tenacity. And her laugh never fails to make him smile. A small and musical little giggle at first, then turning into something longer and louder; a grin that spreads from ear to ear and crinkles the corners of her eyes. Unable to contain herself when her little legs attempt to step over snow piled at a curb; boots slipping and sliding and feet threatening to give out from under her. Both arms circling his torso when she tumbles into him and he effortlessly catches her; her face burrowing into chest and their embrace lingering. A simple and unassuming moment; arms around each other, oblivious to the falling snow and frigid temperatures and passing pedestrians. 

Both the front foyer and restaurant itself are packed, and they choose to wait outside; a text message scheduled to arrive when their order is ready to be picked up. And he playfully and lovingly teases her about her rosy and chapped cheeks and nose and the snow banks that are higher than she is tall; no one being able to find her if he was to scoop her up and drop her into the middle of one. Chuckling when she frowns and tosses a handful of snow in his direction, and then lets loose a little shriek and sprints away when he scoops up a selection of his own; forming a tight and securely packed ball and lobbing it towards her. Teasingly sticking out her tongue when it hits the toes of her boots and snow splatters on the sidewalk. Needless and childish perhaps, but he enjoys her laugh and her smile and the mere sound of her voice. Long ago learning how quickly everything can be snatched away from you; life as you know it ceasing to exist and leaving you with nothing but guilt and regret and profound grief. So every second alone with her is made a priority; each moment counting no matter how silly, serious, or mundane.

“I’ll toss you in,” Tyler nods towards the snowbank lining the curb as she scurries back to join him. “Don’t tempt me.”

“You’d never. Because then I’d get sick and you’d be forced to baby me and tuck me in and bring me hot soup. And then you’d have seven kids to wrangle on your own.”

“I’m no rookie. I’ve handled them by myself more than once. And I’ve been babying you and loving on you for twelve and a half years. And I don’t mind one damn bit.”

“When’s the last time you had to wait on me hand and foot and bring me lemon tea and pat my back when I’m coughing up a lung? Isn’t that more my thing? When you’ve got the man flu? When you’re curled up in bed, convinced that’s how it all ends; coughing and sputtering and choking to death on chicken noodle soup?”

“You forgot the part where I bitch at you for going all mother hen on me.”

“Secretly I think you actually enjoy it. I think you love it when I cater to your every need and whim. When I put a cold face cloth on your head and wipe your snotty nose and sometimes catch your puke in the palm of my hand.”

“That last part isn’t one of my favourites.”

“You take care of me, I take care of you. That’s how we do things.” 

She holds out her hand in a request for assistance and he obliges. Pushing his fingers through hers and then placing his other hand under her elbow; protectively keeping an eye on her as she gingerly makes her way up to the middle of the snowbank. It puts them at even height, and she wraps both arms around his neck and leans into him; pressing a series of small pecks to his lips before kissing him in earnest. His hands slide up the bottom of her thigh length coat; settling on the curves of her hips before slipping around to her ass. And she giggles into his mouth when his fingers dig and pinch at denim covered flesh; eyes sparkling as she pulls back to look at him.

“Maybe I should throw YOU in the snowbank,” Esme teases. “Calm you down a bit.”

“Then I’d get shrinkage and you’d be pissed.”

“That would be a shame, actually. A goddamn Greek tragedy.”

“You don’t want that kind of reaction from me, don’t kiss me like that in public.”

“I can’t help it. It’s not my fault my baby daddy is the sexiest man on earth. My SEVEN TIME baby daddy, at that.”

“You know, it sounds like a hell of a lot more when you actually say the number out loud.”

“Your sperm did very well, babe. It helped make some pretty amazing little humans. No wonder you’re so proud of yourself.” 

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Me. I have to say, my seven time baby momma? She’s not half bad. And…” he smacks the palms of her hands against her butt. “...she has an amazing ass.”

“Coming from the guy with a delicious ass himself? That’s a huge compliment. I’m cold. Warm me up. Kiss me again.”

“Technically, you kissed me the first time. So…”

“It’s your turn then. Don’t be shy. Show all these men around here how it should be done.”

Grinning, his thumbs hook in the pocket pockets of her jeans and he pulls her even closer; her hands clasping together at the nape of his neck as she eagerly responds to his kiss. Sighing when the tip of his tongue skims along the roof of her mouth and then passes over the end of hers before pulling away. 

“You’re dangerous,” she declares. “You’re bad. So bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees. 

“I’d say let’s stand out here and make out some more, but our food is going to be ready very shortly. And I need to fuel up if you plan on keeping me busy all night. That’s what you promised, right? To keep me tied up?”

“I did.” 

“Now was that figuratively or literally? Because I’m open to anything. I’m just sayin’.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she insists, and pecks his lips. “But for now…”

“You mean I don’t have time to just throw you down right here and make an honest woman out of you?”

“Babe, you’ve been trying to do that for the past twelve and a half years. And you’re no further ahead. Needless to say, I think it’s a lost cause. Besides, right here? I’d freeze my most sensitive and precious parts off. And you’d be absolutely heartbroken.”

“I would, actually. I’d probably never get over it.”

“Not to mention we’d probably get arrested for public indecency.”

“Ask me, I’d be doing a public service. Showing all the guys around here how shit should be done.”

“You definitely could teach a course,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “You certainly are masterful when it comes to sexual gratification.”

“Which would explain WHY we have seven kids.”

“Pretty much. That and I don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ when it comes to you. But why the hell would I want to when you are so damn good at what you do?”

“You’re really stroking my ego tonight.”

She gives a mischievous grin. “Maybe because right now, that’s all I CAN stroke.”

“You’re evil,” he declares, and places a hand on the back of her head and aggressively yanks her into another kiss. One that’s harder and deeper and more demanding; carrying with it the promises of so much more to come. 

The night is young and they’re both anticipating true alone time. With no threat of interruptions, they can afford to take their time; connecting through exploration made with hands, lips, teeth, and tongue. It isn’t something that happens often; being able to put in the time and focus and the concentration. Lives full and exhausting with work responsibilities and seven children to spend quality time with and to shuttle to and from extra curricular activities; bedtime routines that little ones love to drag out and test the limits of their parents’ patience. It isn’t easy to always find time to concentrate on anything else; having to make the effort to remind each other of the various roles they play in one another’s lives.

Laying a hand on her hip, he guides her down the snowbank and then places a kiss on the side of her head; palm slipping under the back of her jacket and settling on the small of her back as he tucks her tight into her side. 

“Is it wrong that I hope Desi doesn’t need to call us?” she asks, and hooks two fingers in one of the belt loops on his jeans. “Am I going to hell for hoping my own children DON’T want to call home to say goodnight?”

“Probably. That sounds like banishment to the seventh layer of hell shit to me. But don’t worry; you won’t be alone. Because I am definitely getting sent there for some of the things I’ve been thinking. Like how nice it is that it’s just us for a change. That we’re actually going to eat a meal...together...without having to get up twenty times to tend to other people. That we’ll be able to have real conversations. Ones that don’t involve explaining why our almost twelve year old can’t wear makeup and date and telling our pre teen boys to keep their hands out of their pants.”

“Instead I’ll be telling you to keep your hands out of yours,” she teases, and playfully nudges him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Please. We both know it’s you that can’t keep her paws to herself. Especially when I wear gray sweats.”

“Gray sweats, huh? Is that the outfit you’ve laid out at home? What you’re going to change into to be more comfortable?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I won’t wear anything. So you have easy access.”

“Baby, I always have easy access. You never resist.”

“Why would I? Brain damaged, not brain dead, remember?”

“I really am looking forward to when we’re old and gray and have the house to ourselves. I’m quite curious about what you’ll be like. When you’re seventy-five and going senile. If you’ll still be as horny and raring to go as ever.”

“Me, I will never...ever...stop wanting to jump you. So if you think seventy year old you CAN’T handle that…”

“Oh I can handle that,” she laughs, and steps in front of him. “I can handle YOU. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“You want to practice some more tonight?”

“Depends.” She slides both hands into the back pockets on his jeans. “Do I get more than one practice session or…?”

“Honey, you can have as many as you want.”

She grins. “Happy wife, happy life?"

“Exactly.” He leans down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose followed by each corner of her mouth and then a chaste peck to her lips. “I was thinking that maybe…”

“Hey guys!” A familiar voice greets, and Tyler feels Esme’s body stiffen against him; followed by a heavy sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes before turning towards Natalie. 

He’d thought the confrontation that morning at the restaurant would have put an end to their run-ins with her; handling it as calm and rational as he could when all he’d really wanted to do was tell her where to go along with directions on how to get there. And after the surprise of Esme’s hair cut, he’d told her what had happened; Natalie false assumptions that there’d somehow been a connection made between them and her accusation that he’d led her on in some way. Esme knows him too well to ever believe the word of a stranger; trusting him wholly and completely and never doubting his love or loyalty. And she’d dealt with it well; quietly listening and keeping her composure and never letting her temper or the deep rooted issues with her self esteem and feelings of unworthiness come into play.

“Fancy meeting you two here!” Natalie chirps, and curls both arms around the waist of the man standing next to her; a least a decade younger, curly black hair and chiselled features and striking blue eyes. He’s uncomfortable with the show she’s putting on; awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other and giving them a sheepish, almost apologetic grin. 

“Yeah, imagine that,” Esme retorts, and manages a tense, tight lip smile. “Considering we saw you watching us. From your living room window. Did you follow us here or something? Isn’t this place considered slumming to you? Aren’t you more comfortable down at Trump Plaza or the Russian Tea Room?”

“I’ve heard great things about the food here. And a few carbs won’t hurt. They actually do our body good. Well..” Natalie eyes Esme from head to toe. “...SOME of our bodies.”

“Don’t…” Tyler begins, only to have his wife tighten her grip on his hand.

“Ever your charming self I see,” Esme counters. “Your social skills are second to none. Maybe second to your tact. Or lack thereof. It must be so tiring; twenty four hours of carrying around that chip on your shoulder. For what? The last...I don’t know...forty five years? Am I close?”

“Thirty-five,” Natalie informs her, and then turns a fake, beaming smile to her date. “This is Cody. My boyfriend.”

The young man blinks in surprise. “Your what…?”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Esme smirks. “Funny, you didn’t mention a boyfriend when you came to my house the other day looking for MY husband.”

Natalie’s lips twitch with anger. “I guess it just never came up in conversation.”

“I guess not. I guess somewhere between offering your cookie...I mean cookies...to another woman’s man and insulting me, having a boyfriend just slipped your mind. I bet that happens a lot. Things just slipping out of that little head of yours.”

“These are neighbours of mine,” Natalie addresses her date. “Tyler and Emily.”

“Her name’s Esme,” Tyler can’t control the snarl that creeps into his voice, and his wife’s fingers once more tightens around his and she sidesteps and tucks herself into his side; physical contact one of the things that is able to ground him and prevent his temper from reaching a boiling point. “Esme,” he slowly repeats. “It’s not that hard.”

“Easy mistake,” his wife says, and gives him a reassuring smile. “I mean, your dad called me that for how many years? Almost ten?.”

“He had dementia,” he reminds her. “His brain was practically rotting.”

“Well I’m sure Natalie has a perfect good reason for mixing it up too. I mean, how else do you explain her lack of judgement when it comes to calling on a married man? No logical and reasonably intelligent person would ever think THAT’S a good idea. And did I mention she called your son handicapped? I might have forgotten to tell you that.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “You called my kid that?” 

“I admit, it was a poor choice of words,” Natalie admits, and he gives a derisive snort in response. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It definitely wasn’t meant as a slur against the little cutie. And he is, by the way. Cute. Guess he gets both his looks and his personality from his father. Seeing his mother lacks in BOTH areas.”

The sigh that escapes him is deep and shaky; his temper quickly reaching its breaking point. “You know what…”

“We should go and check on our order,” Esme says, and steps between her husband and neighbour; placing her hands on his hips and presenting her back to Natalie. “They might have jotted your cell number done wrong or something. It’s probably ready and they can’t get a hold of us. Let’s go check, okay babe?”

“Alright,” he agrees, and she perches herself on her tiptoes as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“You two have a wonderful night,” Esme flashes an overly polite smile, then once more takes her husband’s hand in hers. “And you…” she addresses Cody. “...good luck.”

****

“There’s no way in hell that was her boyfriend,” Esme comments two hours later, as wanders out into the covered deck off of the master bedroom. “I don’t know who the hell she thought was fooling.”

It had been one of the coveted additions they’d insisted on when they’d purchased the brownstone. Several feet deep and spanning the entire width of the structure; non-slip tiles, a six person hot tub, ample, comfortable seating and a place to sip a morning coffee or enjoy a meal. And the ability to achieve the utmost privacy; all weather vinyl shutters that can be pulled straight across, blocking the view of any nosey neighbours. Tonight they’re drawn shut but tilted slightly open; allowing shards of moonlight to trickle through, adding to the glow given off by strings of white mini lights and scented candles. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” Tyler asks, head cocked to the side, his eyes narrowed and brows knitted together. It’s quite the ensemble; an enormous bubble gum pink terry cloth bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy unicorn slippers that the kids had insisted on getting her the past Mother’s Day. 

“I had to keep warm to come out here. I wasn’t going to just walk out naked.”

The frown is replaced by a wide grin. “You’re naked under there?”

“Half naked,” she clarifies, and places the items in her hands on the ledge of the hot tub; two plates bearing slices of caramel cheesecake and corresponding cutlery. “Are YOU naked in there?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Maybe in a little while,” she says, and playfully twirls the sash on her robe. “Water’s good?”

“It’s perfect. Just the way you like it. Not too hot, not cool enough to feel like old bath water.”

She stands behind him and lays her hands on his shoulders; pressing a kiss to his temple and then his cheek. “Excellent.”

He watches her as she steps away. The nervous way she chews on her bottom lip and rocks back and forth on her heels and her hands alternate between fidgeting with the belt on the bathrobe and either running through her hair or tucking it behind her ears. “You alright, babe? What’s wrong?”

“I did something today. BOUGHT something, I should say.”

“Is it something that drained our bank account or…”

“No!” She gives a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing like that. Nothing extravagant. It’s just...I don’t know...something out of my comfort zone.”

“You want to tell me what this something is or…?”

“You know how I’ve been struggling. With my body. Since the twins were born. How I’ve been feeling about myself.”

He nods. It’s been frustrating to say the least; attempting to drill it into her head that she looks incredible and is...in his eyes...the most beautiful woman in the world. But her already struggling confidence took a nosedive once the twins were born five years ago; unable to shed that dreaded last twenty pounds that she often complains about yet he barely notices. She’s curvier now; ass bigger and hips wider and breasts fuller. But she’s also a hundred times more beautiful; her body a temple that has carried children inside of it and helped nurture them and keep them alive. HIS children. While she was incredible when they’d first met, she’s even more so now. And it’s a difficult thing to sit back and watch; the person you love for more than anything in the world struggle with something you can’t fix.

“And you know it’s been a while since you have actually seen me in a bathing suit. Without a t-shirt over it, I mean. And how it’s been just as long since I’ve NOT insisted on keeping a shirt on when we...you know…”

“Four years,” he says, and it hurts his heart to admit. It’s a bitter pill to swallow; adoring and worshipping someone that much but not being able to get through to them. 

“Well, I’ve decided to start working on that. The issues with my body. Because that’s just what they are. MY issues. And you know it’s nothing to do with you, right? That you haven’t done anything wrong or made me feel like I’m ugly or unworthy or…”

“I know that, Me. Just like you know that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me. That your body’s amazing. And that I miss it. As selfish as that sounds.”

“It’s never been about you or something you have or haven’t done. I need you to know that. Please tell me you know that, Tyler. I need to know that YOU know that.”

“I do. And I’ve told you that I’ll help you. I’ll go and see Doctor Klein with you. I’ll do whatever it takes to help. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I feel so stupid. That I’m so nervous about this. I mean, you’re my husband. We’ve seen each other naked. A lot. I mean, you’ve seen me give birth to babies. Seven of them. Yet I’m freaking out over this. It’s not like you’re just some guy off the street. You’re Tyler. MY Tyler. Yet I’m losing it. I’m nervous and I’m worried and I’m…”

“What are you nervous about? Tell me. Because I can’t try and fix it if I don’t know. What are you so worried about?”

“That you won’t like what you see. That I’ll see disappoint in your eyes. Because I’m not who I was when we first met.”

“Esme, I don’t expect you to be that person. In the same way you don’t expect me to be the same. A lot has changed in twelve and a half years. A lot’s gone down. And some of it has been pretty goddamn shitty. Not to mention you’ve had kids. MY kids. I love YOU. All of you. Just the way you are. There’s no reason to be nervous or worried. What do you think I’m going to see?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But I’m scared. That whatever you do see, you’ll hate.”

“Baby, that is never going to happen. I love you too much to ever hate anything about you.”

“I don’t want to see disappointment in your eyes. I don’t want you to look at me like you’re disgusted.”

“And I’m not going to. You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. You’re the centre of my whole fucking universe. I would never look at you like that. Not in a million years.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Nothing could change the way I see you. Nothing.”

“Okay,” she says, and then takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Maybe you should close your eyes. Until I get in the water.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it. I promise you, I will love what I see. Because I love you. Despite you being an enormous pain in my ass.”

She laughs at that, then gathers up enough courage to quickly untie the robe and shrug out of it; fighting the urge to immediately cover herself and tossing the garment onto a nearby chair. 

He finds himself speechless. Transfixed by the sight standing before him. It’s been four years since he’d the last time he’d seen her NOT fully covered; annoyed by her insistence on always wearing a shirt over her bathing suit or to dress in the dark or another room entirely. And it taken a lot of patience to get where he is now; a place of acceptance and understanding that her issues have nothing to do with him. So it’s a pleasant shock to see what’s now being presented to him; his wife clad in a black two piece suit, top tied at the nape of her neck and the small of her back, the bottoms sitting low on her hips.

“Bad, right?” She sounds -and looks- as if she may cry; her hands nervously wringing together and her chin and lower lip trembling. 

“No, babe. Not bad at all. You look...wow.”

“Really? I mean, you don’t see the stretch marks? They’re there. I’ve had seven kids. I’m going to have stretch marks. I just have a lot.”

“Of course I see them. I just don’t give a shit about them. Yeah, you’ve had kids. My kids. And that makes you even more incredible in my eyes.”

“My butt’s bigger. By a lot. My hips are wider.”

“Like I said, you’ve had babies. You’re beautiful. There’s nothing bad about what I’m seeing. Not one bit. When you look at me, do you see all the bad shit? Do you immediately see all the scars? Because I got a hell of a lot more of those than you have stretch marks. Do they bother you?”

“Of course they don’t bother me. They’re part of you. They’re reminders; of everything you’ve been through and how you survived when you probably shouldn’t have. But you’re beautiful to me. You always have been.”

“Same way you are to me. Your stretch marks? That’s a sign you carried human life inside of you. What’s more amazing than that?”

The tears that had once been sparkling in her eyes vanish, and her frown turns into a soft smile. “You really like it?”

“I love it. You look beautiful, Me. So fucking beautiful.”

“Desi picked it. I wanted a one piece but he can be very insistent.”

“Remind me to send him a thank you card. Or a fruit basket. Maybe both.”

She laughs. “I’m sure he’d like that. It took a lot of work on his part. To even get me try it on.”

“Well whatever he did, I owe him my first born. Just don’t tell Millie that. That won’t go over well.”

“You really DO like it? It’s not too much? Or too little, I should say?”

“It’s perfect. YOU’RE perfect. Does this mean we get to actually have sex without you wearing a shirt?”

“Baby steps,” she says, and climbs the stairs to the hot tub; fingers curling around his hand when he offers her assistance. "And this might be the only baby step I have courage for.”

She settles down across from him; reaching for the glass of wine she’d brought out earlier and the plate of cheesecake. Just like that the moment has passed; her discomfort and worry vanishing quicker than it had appeared. He imagines she’d been stewing over it all day; dwelling on negative scenarios that would never play out. And it helps him relax as well; knowing he’s made her feel safe and secure and that he was able to restore even just a shred of her confidence.

“Do you?” she asks, and digs the fork into the sweet dessert. “Think it was her boyfriend?”

“Are we still talking about her? Didn’t we talk about her over dinner?”

“I don’t think it was. A boyfriend. She was definitely making that up.”

“It was obvious. Did you see the look on his face when she called him that?”

“He looked like he shit himself. Not that I blame him. She’s a little...what’s the word…?”

“Looney tunes?”

“I was going to say high maintenance, but okay. Looney Tunes. I’ll let you have it. You know what his face reminded me of? The look you got when Nik brought up the whole fake marriage thing. You looked like you were ready to drop a load in your pants.”

“I wanted to drop a load of a different kind in you, but…”

“You had your chance. At the hotel. Before we got into Dhaka proper. I invited you. To my room.”

“And I accepted.”

“Until you reneged. Until you totally chickened out of kissing me. I’m still mad about that, you know. That you did that. You seriously wounded my self esteem.”

“It wasn’t about you. It was me. All me.”

“But I didn’t exactly know that, did I. I mean, I kind of figured you had some issues going on. I did see all the booze and the pain meds at your place and you were kind of drunk and high when I met you. Not to mention Nik told me about your ‘death wish’.”

“She told you about that?”

“She said that you were a difficult person to get close to. That I shouldn’t expect much out of you. That you had your issues and one of those was that you were hoping to catch a bullet.”

“And you still wanted to bang me? You saw the booze and the meds, you knew I wasn’t sober when we met, Nik told you I was fucked up. Yet you still wanted to get mixed up with me?”

“You were intriguing. I was intrigued by you. I’d heard the stories and the rumours and I was pleasantly surprised when I saw what you looked like. I’m a red blooded female. And there you were with your blue eyes and your awesome hair cut and your tattoos and your muscles. Of course I wanted to get mixed up with you.”

“Your taste in men sucks.”

“It DID suck. Until I met you. You happen to be the best thing that ever happened to me. None of that shit mattered. Not the booze, not the pain meds, not your death wish or your mounds of baggage. I saw something different in you. You were totally unlike anyone I’d ever met. Ever. And yeah, maybe a lot of people would consider it a lapse of judgement. But I don’t regret it. And I didn ‘t regret it then either.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“What I’m saying is that I love you. That I saw potential. That you weren’t the monster you thought you were. There was still humanity left in you. A lot of it. You just needed something to bring it out.”

“Or someone.”

“I like to think I played some part in it,” she grins, and sips her wine. “I like to think I was a good influence on you.”

“You were, Me. You still are.”

Her smile broadens, and they lapse into a comfortable and companionable silence; enjoying the cheesecake on their plates and the warmth of the water and ambiance created by the glow of candles and Christmas lights. And she’s on her last sip of wine when she feels the brush of his toes against her leg; beginning at the side of her ankle and slowly travelling up her calf and along her thigh. A mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth; eyes sparkling as she regards him, rim of the wine glass pressed against her lips.

“Do you know where your foot is right now?” Esme inquires.

“I know EXACTLY where my foot is right now.”

“What do you know about sex in hot tubs? Do you think it’s safe?”

“It won’t kill you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Do you want to try? See if it causes any damage?”

“For scientific purposes you mean?”

“Exactly. For science. Should we? Just go with it and see what happens?”

“You know what…” he slides closer to her, leaning in to press a series of kisses along the side of her neck, hand replacing the foot that had been between her thighs; fingers tending to the ministrations that his toes had begun. . “...I’m willing to take one for the team.”


	17. Love and War

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of your cheating,” Tyler snarls. 

“I am NOT cheating! “ Esme cries, and refuses to make eye contact with the man sitting beside her; aware of the temper that’s slowly boiling. He’s agitated; eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, jaw tightly clenched. She’s seen and heard it all before; the bitterness and the irritation and the rash jump to conclusions. “You’re imagining things!”

“Bullshit I’m imagining it. I have eyes you know. I CAN see. And what I’m seeing? You’re cheating.”

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but there’s no cheating happening. You’re just pissed.”

“Damn right I’m pissed. I know what you’re up to. I can’t fucking believe you think you can get away with it. I know YOU. I know when something’s up. And something is up.”

She rolls her eyes. “The only thing that is ‘up’ is your temper. Take it down a notch, Australian. Or I’ll take YOU down a notch.”

“I’d love to see you try,” he scoffs. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? What other shady shit are you going to pull?”

“There you go with your paranoia again. There’s nothing going on. No shady shit. Can’t you just accept that you’re losing?”

“I’m losing my mind is what I’m losing.”

A derisive snort. “Not much left to lose.”

He scowls. “I have had just about enough of your lip.”

“What are you going to do? Stab me? Shoot me? Throw a grenade at me?”

“I’m going to beat your ass is what I’m going to do. Go all fucking HAM on you.”

“You’re going to start now? Have you been napping for the last hour?”

“Is that a shot at my age? I’m pretty sure that was a shot at my age.”

“It was a shot at your poor skills and your lapses of judgement. You’re slowing down. No wonder you’re suffering so badly.”

“I’m going to make you suffer in a second.”

“Bring it. There’s nothing you got that I can’t handle.”

It’s been sixty minutes of this. The snarling and the scowling and bickering back and forth; nasty exchanges fuelled by his hurt feelings and damaged ego and her refusal to back down or admit any wrongdoing. It’s a battle of both wills and personalities; two strong and resilient yet extremely stubborn people, neither giving the other an ounce of sympathy or allowing any breathing room. And it comes to a head; a growled ‘fuck!’ on his behalf followed by the xBox controller being tossed onto the cluttered coffee table in pure frustration. Letting loose a groan of both defeat and annoyance, he leans back against the couch and rakes both hands through his hair and then runs his palms over his face.

“Cry some more!” Esme shouts, and gleefully bounces up and down on the cushion beside him. “Unleash your inner bitch baby! Because you just got knocked the fuck out. AGAIN.”

“I really, really, REALLY do not like you right now.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle defeat." She reaches for the open bag of red licorice that sits on the arm of the sofa; yanking a strand out and pointing it at him before taking an aggressive bite from it. “That you’re way too competitive even with the stupidest of shit.”

“This!” He wildly gestures towards the flat screen television across the room. “Is NOT stupid shit!”

“It’s a goddamn video game, Tyler. Stop taking this so seriously.”

“It isn’t just a video game,” he argues. “It’s my fucking pride! My manhood!”

“I highly doubt your manhood is in any danger because your wife beats you at Call of Duty. You need to simmer down, son. I can’t help it that I’m THAT good.”

“Is this what you do all day back home? When I’m not around? You hone your video game skills?”

“No. I just happen to have the magic touch. I can’t help it that I’m a natural. I even beat TJ AND Millie and you know how good those two are.”

He places his hands behind his head and laces his fingers together. Sighing heavily and then turning his gaze towards the ceiling. “They’re amateurs compared to me.”

“Well you’re the one who has been looking like the amateur, so…”

He shoots an annoyed glare in his direction.

“Look, in real life you may be the king when it comes to this shit; shooting people and beating the shit out of them. But in video game land? I’m the fucking master. And you WILL accept defeat and bow down to me.”

“Like fuck I will.”

“You know the rules. You’re the one who wanted to play with these kinds of stakes. Now get to it. Pay your dues to the true Queen.”

Sighing heavily, he reluctantly gets to his feet, fingers pausing on his belt buckle.

“Do it,” Esme orders. “All is fair in love and war.”

“You know, this isn’t over yet. Even without these on, I won’t be totally naked. Which means you haven’t won a damn thing.”

“I’ve won five out of seven games. You have way less clothes on than me. Now suck it up and take them off.”

“Fine,” he huffs, and angrily yanks the leather from its clasp and rips the belt from the loops on his jeans; glaring at her as he tosses the item aside. “Happy?”

“Pants too.”

“Pants and belts are two separate things. I only need to take one off.”

“Pants and belts go together. They count as ONE item.”

He frowns. “Says who?”

“Says the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“Listen, I don’t make them, I just enforce them. A belt isn’t a piece of clothing. It’s an accessory. So it is counted WITH the pants. Stop being such a baby and play by the rules!”

“Your imaginary rules you mean. I didn’t make you take your underwear off when you lost YOUR pants. Aren’t those an accessory? Shouldn't they have come off too?”

“Underwear can be worn alone.”

“You can’t go out with just underwear on, Me. Give me a break.”

“You can walk around the house in just underwear. But you don’t walk around in just a belt now, do you? Stop whining, suck it up, and drop your drawers.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbles, and finally relents; popping open the button and reaching for the zipper.

“Yeah baby!” she hollers, and scrambles up onto her knees; whistling noisily and once more excitedly bouncing up and down. “That’s what I’m talking about! Take ‘em off! Let me see that sexy ass of yours! This is way better than any peeler bar!!”

“If you’re going to objectify me, shouldn’t you be tucking money into my underwear?”

“You don’t wear any. Where am I supposed to tuck it? In your ass crack? Does it work like a debit machine? I just slide my card in? Is that how it works? I have to slip something up your butt?”

“You come anywhere near my ass with the intention of slipping something into it…”

“Like you’ve never enjoyed a little ass play. Don’t act so innocent. You damn well know you don’t mind a finger up there every now and then. Don’t act like you’ve never allowed it to happen.”

“I was drunk.”

“Each time? Something like a dozen? You were drunk EACH time? Listen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having that kind of kink. It’s only when I’m going down on you and you’ve been extra….well...EXTRA.”

“Enough! Why do we have to talk about it? Isn’t it enough to just to do it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Does it make you uncomfortable? Discussing butt stuff? Well now you know how it feels. Not literally, because your dick is way bigger than my finger. So you DON’T know how it feels. Now shut up and do what I say. Drop your pants!”

Sighing, he slides the zipper all the way down and allows the denim to slide off his hips and ass; letting it pool at his ankles before kicking them off. 

“Wait a second…” her eyes narrow and she points the remains of her licorice strip in his direction. “What the fuck are those?”

A grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “What’s what?”

“Those.” She gestures at the extra layer of clothing. “What the hell, Tyler James…”

“It’s a pair of those UnderArmour things you bought me. You said I should start wearing them. That they’ve been sitting in the drawer since we bought this place. I’m finally wearing them.”

“You’re supposed to wear them outside! To keep you warm! You don’t wear them in the house!”

“Says who? I can wear them where the fuck I want.”

“You…” she snarls, and glares at him. “...you did this intentionally. As soon as you declared this strip Call of Duty, you went upstairs and put those on. You weren’t wearing them earlier. I KNOW what you wore out. And I saw you take those clothes off when we got home from picking up the food and you were NOT wearing those underneath. You sneaky bastard.”

“Don’t hate the player,” he says, and drops down onto the couch and reaches for the controller. “Hate the game.”

“You absolute dick. I can’t believe you did that. Now THAT’S cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It was purely a strategic move. And you call me an amateur.”

“You went calculating mercenary on me. You pulled out THAT card. You shit!”

“You may be kicking my ass at the game, but I outsmarted you. I’ve always been able to. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

“Oh, it’s on,” she declares, and snatches up her own controller and plops down beside him. Scowling and moving away when he attempts to slide closer to her. “Don’t even think about it. We’re enemies right now. Mortal enemies. Your treachery will not go unpunished.”

“And you say I’M taking this too seriously?”

“You totally upped the ante. You crossed a line, mister. Accusing me of cheating and all along it was you that was up to no good. I see how it is.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you that I love you?”

“Save your ass kissing. Because when I win, I’m going to make you get on your knees and pucker up. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“I’m not scared of you. Much.”

“Be afraid. Be very afraid. I will destroy you.”

Grinning, he reaches over and presses the start button on her controller. “Bring it, short stuff.”

*****

She emerges victorious. Easily handing him a crushing defeat that leaves her still clad in an oversized plain shirt and wool socks and him relegated to stripping off the last layer of clothing. And his smirk is one of both annoyance and amusement as he watches her, standing on the couch with a foot on either side of his thighs and partaking in her victory celebration; a mixture of wildly tossing her hair -or what’s left of it -around and suggestively bumping and grinding her hips while repeatedly chanting: “I did it, I did! I beat you, I did!”. She’s had a little too much to drink; enjoying nearly three quarters of a bottle of wine and then indulging in two hot chocolates infused with Kahlua. And between her somewhat inebriated state causing poor coordination and her penchant for being clumsy on even her best and most sober of days, he keeps a firm, protective hold on the back of her calves. The last thing he needs is a trip to the ER and an awkward explanation of just how she fell and busted her head open. In Telluride she’d once slipped on loose stone in the driveway and went down hard; catching the back of her head on one of the truck’s running boards and creating a hell of a gash in her scalp. And for someone that had spent years in the military and on the job and who’d inflicted gnarly injuries and gruesome deaths on others, he’d been the one close to panicking; convinced he’d seen he’d never seen so much blood in his entire life and nearly hyperventilating at the mere thought of her being hurt. She’d been the calm one; trying to talk him down on the way to the hospital while he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a blood soaked towel to the back of her head.

But it had been what had happened once he’d gotten her help that caused the most trauma. For both of them. The nurse in charge of administering the first line of care had taken one look at the sheer size of him and the amount of scars and tattoos covering the visible parts of body and had gotten her guard up. His behaviour had been the nail in the coffin. His PTSD (undiagnosed at the time) triggered by hospitals and all of the sounds and the sights and the smells that accompany them. He’d been irritable and short tempered and unable to sit still; alternating between vigorously bouncing or shaking his legs or aggressively pacing the floor. He had sent off a number of red flags, and no sooner did they make it back to an exam room, a handful of cops showed up. Explaining the nurse's worries and how their arrival at the ER and Esme’s injury was being treated as a possible ‘domestic abuse situation’. That had only made his mood even worse; being accused of the one damn thing he’d always vowed never to let happen. No matter how dark and dire a situation got, no matter how bad their problems or volatile their arguments, he’d sworn he’d never hurt her; promising to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger if he ever ‘blacked out’ and physically hurt her. To this day he’s still amazed that he never caught an assault charge. Shoving one of the officers that had attempted to escort him to a different room and grabbing the throat of the other; triggered the second they made physical contact with him. 

Six hours later they’d been sent home with five stitches in her head, a prescription for pain meds and a half assed apology. The next day, Child Protective Services showed up on their doorstep; receiving the hospital report and hearing about how he’d assaulted two cops and wanting to further investigate. Nothing had ever come of it; their case file quickly closed when it became apparent that the children were well taken care of and there were absolutely no signs of abuse in the house. But it had done a lot of damage; worsening his PTSD and helping his distrust in the general public grow to epic levels. 

“Are you done?” he asks now, when the celebration finally comes to an end. Her hair messy and wild, cheeks flushed from a mixture of her erratic movements and the alcohol she’d consumed, chest heaving from exertion. “Got it all out of your system? Or are you going to gloat some more?”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s all in good fun. Everything I do and say, is done with love.”

He smirks. “Sure it is. You good? You finished? Or do I have to boot you to the couch tonight?”

“I’m good. I’m done. It’s over. I won’t gloat anymore and further hurt your delicate sensibilities.”

Smirking, he runs his hands around to the front of her calves and slides them upwards. Briefly lingering on her thighs before snagging the bottom of her shirt and yanking her downwards. She gives a startled yelp when she initially loses her balance and then begins to giggle when he easily and effortlessly gathers her into his arms; knees on either side of his hips as he pulls her tightly against him.

“I know I got a little out of hand,” he says. “Over the whole video game thing. I get a little...intense.”

“You think? Intense is putting it lightly. You’re a little competitive.”

“Yeah, just a tad.”

“And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re a sore loser.”

“Excuse you,” he chuckles, and she laughs and squirms against him when his fingers dig into the sensitive areas below her rib cage. “I was trying to be nice. I was trying to apologize. In my own way.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know what you’re like, Tyler. I know how you are. You’re insanely competitive. I’ve seen you while playing xBox with the kids. And I’ve seen you after when Millie’s kicked your ass.”

“First, she doesn’t really kick my ass. It’s a small margin of victory. Second, it doesn’t happen often.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Regardless, I know you. I know how worked up and intense you get. I don’t take anything you say seriously when you’re like that. Especially when you ARE losing. It’s all in good fun. You don’t say shit to be mean. Same way I don’t. It’s just who we are. We shit talk each other. I think that’s pretty cool, actually. That we ARE like that. That we’re not just husband and wife and two people raising a family together. We’re friends too. I know you’re my BFF. No doubt about it.”

“You’re definitely mine. But let’s be realistic; how many BFF’s sit on your lap with no underwear on?”

“I lost them an hour ago. One of the three games you actually won. And speaking of which…” she glances down between them. “...technically, things aren't over yet. There’s one thing that remains. That you still have to do.”

“I admitted defeat. I watched your stupid little victory dance. I let you rub it in my face. Isn’t that enough?”

“Nope.”

“What more do you want from me? My right kidney?”

“I want you to do what you’re supposed to. The rules were made very clear at the very at the beginning. And YOU’RE the one that made them. So…”

“I thought maybe you’d go easy on me. Cut me a break. Have some sympathy.”

“You’d have zero sympathy for me and you’d totally enforce the rules. So, you have no choice in the matter.”

“Me, come on, you already hurt my pride. You want to decimate it entirely? Take pity on me.”

“Sorry. I have none to give. You know what you have to do.”

“You know, I was thinking maybe you’d do it for me. Give you that last piece of victory. Give you that feeling of power.”

“Mmm...hmmm. You know what I think? I think that you were hoping getting me down there would weaken me. That I’d do a little something for you.”

“Well I DO need comforting,” Tyler reasons. “You did beat me pretty bad.”

“I totally kicked your ass. But comfort? I don’t know…”

“Be nice to me. You already humiliated me. What more do you want?”

“Don’t turn this around. This isn’t about what I want. This is totally about what YOU want. Because you know if I give in, it puts you at your twice a day. You just can’t handle change. Even when it comes to THAT.”

“I’m a creature of habit. I need my routine. I can’t help it. You know how my OCD acts up when my routine gets fucked up.”

“I love how you just so casually play that card to get what you want. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight. And a little drunk.”

“Just a little?”

“Maybe a lot drunk. Or at the threshold between still being able to make conscious and wise decisions but not drunk enough to pass out and have you carry me upstairs. But, seeing as I’m in a generous and giving mood and you HAVE been on your best behaviour lately, maybe I could give you a little something.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Yeah? A little something, huh? This is where I’m going to miss the hair the most…” he uses gentle fingers to push wayward strands out of her hair; looping dark tresses behind each ear. “...when you’re getting to business. I always knew just how much effort you were going to put into it when you’d put her hair in a ponytail.”

“I thought you liked it. My hair. I thought you didn’t mind it like this.”

“I do like it. I love it. It suits you; shows off your cute, tiny little face. I’m just used to it being long, that’s all. You know, being able to grab it and shit.”

“There’s still some length to it. Enough for you to get even your humongous hands on. And as for the whole ponytail thing, I promise I’ll find another way to let you know when I mean business. When I’m all in.”

“I’m not too worried. Even when you haven’t put your hair back, you’ve never put in a bad performance. Let’s just say, it’s not just Call of Duty you’re a master at.”

“I figure I must not be too bad. I must be doing something right. I haven’t heard one complaint in twelve and half years.”

“Baby, you’re doing everything right. You will never hear a complaint from me. Ever.”

“Have you ever thought maybe I’m not actually that talented? That maybe you’re just very easy to please?”

“Me, no one has ever gotten as quick of reaction out of me as you have. Right from day one. So I don’t know what hoodoo voodoo black magic you’ve got through those veins of yours, but all those other women? None of them even come close to you.”

“Not a single one? Not even the stripper in Thailand you once told me about?”

“Not even her. I actually had to concentrate really hard to get it up. With you? You just look at me a certain way and that’s it. You’ve got some power that I can’t even come close to explaining.”

“Maybe it’s the fact it’s lust AND love?”

“That’ll do it.”

“Speaking of lust, I really do want you to see you with your pants off. I know what a tremendously beautiful sight that is. And I’m actually feeling very generous and giving right now.” She pushes her fingers through his hair; tightly gripping the longer top strands as she leans in to kiss him. Nothing soft or slow about it; lips demanding and her tongue insistently pushing against his teeth. Even after twelve and a half years, it’s rare for her to be the aggressor; preferring him to take charge and enjoying being dominated and ‘man handled’. And it took him a while to get used to letting her have even the slightest bit of control; liking his usual role of being the one fully in charge. 

His hands briefly rest on her shoulders and then slide down her arms, pausing at her hips before reaching around to slip up the bottom of her shirt and grab her ass. Fingers pressing into the soft flesh; pulling her even tighter against him and bringing her bare crotch in direct contact with the beginnings of his erection. Twelve and half years later and he still wants and needs her just as much as he did that first time in Dhaka. Maybe even more so. There’s nothing mundane about it; he enjoys the changes in her form and the familiarity that comes with their love making. Their bodies know each other so well; always eagerly responding to one another and knowing exactly how to both torture and please.. And he can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else; completely content and satisfied knowing that what they have extends far beyond passion and sexual gratification.

She’s cradling his face in her palms when she slowly pulls out of the kiss, and he winces when her teeth capture his bottom lip between them; hard enough to draw tiny beads of blood. It’s her way of letting him know just what she’s in the mood for; the slight hint of aggression and the darkness in her eyes betraying the combination of primal want and need. Even after twelve and a half years she never actually verbalizes it; the self conscious side always leery about being that honest and open and fearing rejection. So he’s become a master at reading her signs; the assertive and domineering way in which she’ll kiss him, the way her hands hungrily and needily paw and grab, the darkness that appears in her eyes and the little smirk upon her lips. 

That smirk is there now. Tugging at the corners of her mouth and she slides off his lap; her dark hair slipping through his fingers and his legs parting when she places her hands upon his knees. Something changes when she settles herself between his thighs; the softness returning to her features, the smirk transforming into a delicate smile. In that moment she seems so delicate pure; that smooth, porcelain skin accentuated by the dark hair that frames her face, those enormous eyes sparkling in the glow given off by the fireplace. There’s so much trust and faith and love evident in her eyes that it almost takes his breath away, and he reaches out to lay a hand on her cheek; fingers splayed over her ear and his thumb brushing over her lips. And she turns her face into his palm; gaze never leaving his as she presses a kiss to the calloused skin. And suddenly, despite the earlier bantering and sexual innuendos, the time doesn’t seem quite right; the comfortable silence between them, the softness of her hands resting upon his knees, the dainty curve to her lips and the innocence in her eyes. And he slides his hand to the back of her head and tangles his fingers in her hair as he gently draws her forward. Her arms circling his neck as he pulls her into him; the kiss long and deep and passionate, leaving them both breathless.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says, forehead resting against hers. “Do this right.”

“I think you’re going to have to carry me. My toes are tingly.”

“I think I can manage. How should we do this? Do you feel like caveman style of Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind?”

“Caveman style. Makes your muscles bulge more. And gives me a chance to stare at your butt.” She gives a small shriek when an arm wraps around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his shoulder; yelping when a hand clamps down on her ass he pushes himself into a stand. “My big, strong man,” she giggles. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Just slightly?”

“Your armour is perfect as is. It’s beautiful and it’s sexy and man, does your ass look extra good from this angle.”

“Speaking of asses…” he brings his palm down on one of her cheeks in a ringing slap. “....this one? This ass? It’s all mine.”

“All yours,” she agrees, tightly grabbing hold of the waist of the UnderArmour pants he still sports as he begins the journey up the stairs. “Don’t drop me! Don’t let me fall!”

“I’d never let you fall, Me,” he vows. “Ever.”

****

The confines of his arms are the most secure and comfortable place on earth; strong and muscular, even the lightest of embraces always possessing intense power and protection. Affection -both receiving and giving- had once been foreign to him; deprived of a loving parent when his mother passed away and left with one that was cold and menacing and did nothing but inflict torture and abuse. His first wife hadn’t been one for the more quiet and relaxing moments following sex, and his life after his divorce had consisted of no strings attached hook ups; out the door as fast as he could flush the condom. So it had been a learning process; a slow yet steady journey of travelling outside of known behaviour and comfort zones. Now he’s a master of it; the aftercare and the snuggling and the long, sleepy conversations as they lay in midst of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And he readily seeks and offers physical contact in all aspects of his life; quick with the hugs and the taking of a hand or little random kisses when you’re not expecting them. 

She lays tightly tucked into his side. Head resting on his shoulder and her arm draped across his midsection; fingertips lazily following the lines of his ribs and drawing feathery patterns on smooth, warm skin. She knows every inch of his body; able to blindly find each scar and trace the outline of every tattoo. His body is hard and strong; tall and broad shouldered, athletically built. It’s reminiscent of how he’d looked when they first met; lean and muscular, impossibly strong without any extra bulk. She’s seen him every shape and size. Rail thin and sickly looking when he’d finally gotten out of the hospital; an almost staggering loss of both weight and muscle. And the 'lumberjack' stage; thick and powerful; his build phenomenal, extra weight gathering at his stomach and just above his hips. She’s loved him each and every way; during the best days of his life and the worst. Her heart breaking at his struggles with his thin and weaker body during his convalescence five years ago; the days he hated what he saw in the mirror and would fly into rages directed at Nathan and how he’d managed to break him both physically and mentally. And she’d supported him through nearly two years of physiotherapy. The weeks filled with gruelling and painful appointments; comforting him the best she could when it all became too much to bear and he’d cry tears of both frustration and agony. Trying not to break down herself when he claimed that it would have been easier had he died. That he felt useless to both her and the kids. Lamenting that he wasn’t even half the man he was when they’d first met. But she’d gotten him through it; gently leading him out of the dark place in his head and doing whatever she could to encourage him to keep going.

Five years later and he’s come a hell of a long way. There will always be issues; long lasting effects both physically and mentally. The damage Nathan had done causing permanent and life altering problems; vision loss in the right eye, post concussion syndrome, nerve damage in the small of his back and into his right hip, a leg limp that becomes even more pronounced when the cold weather sets in and irritates the arthritis that thrives in his knee and femur. Yet he never complains; down playing the pain and refusing to let it control his life. He’ll need another operation when he hits sixty, if not before. The knee not healing and bouncing back as well as it should; the surgically repaired ligaments and tendons far weaker than they had hoped they’d be. But he doesn’t let it slow him down; even on the days he can barely move and she has to help him get out of bed or in and out of the shower. It’s a bitter pill for him to try and swallow; occasionally needing assistance when it comes to even the smallest of everyday things. She sees how it both annoys and embarrasses him; someone his size and possessing his skills and capabilities needing help from someone as tiny as her. Holding onto that one shred of toxic masculinity that tells him the roles should be reversed; he’s the one that should be taking care of her and doing whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe and healthy and protected. And she handles it the best way she knows how; quietly and efficiently. Never calling attention to his struggles and keeping his mind from travelling down a dark and dangerous rabbit hole by encouraging random chit chat; keeping things light and happy and her hands soft and loving. And in the future, never bringing up what he’d needed or what she’d had to do.

She presses a kiss to the scar that mars his left shoulder. “You awake?”

“I am.”

“You okay?”

His fingers continue to comb through her hair; slow and soothing movements. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re extra quiet tonight. I mean, you’re always quiet. But you’re even more so.”

“I’m just lying here enjoying it. The post orgasmic bliss.”

She lifts her head to look at him, admiring the line of his jaw and the beard that’s beginning to fill out and thicken and those impossible long and dark eyelashes that rest upon smooth skin. “Hey, that’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it’s not. I beat you to it.” As the fingers of one hand continue to move through her hair, the others drift along her upper arm; calloused tips occasionally pausing to trace slow and lazy patterns. “You alright?”

Nodding, she slides further up the bed. Nose pressed against the sensitive spot right below his ear and her hand reaching up to rest on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing against his brow. “I’m good. VERY good, actually.”

“You were fucking amazing,” he praises, and turns his face into hers and places a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “You always are. But that? That was…”

“Extra?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Very extra.”

“I don’t want to ever hear that you’re complaining about me ever again. Because you are extremely spoiled and there are many men who would envy your sex life.”

His eyes flicker open and a frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t complain about you.”

“Like hell you don’t. All couples complain about each other. I admit that I complain about you. About some of the shit you do that drives me insane. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“There’s not really anything to complain about when it comes to you.”

“Right…” she laughs. “...don’t go sparing my feelings, babe. I know what I’m like. I know what kind of bullshit I bring to the table. And yet you’re still here. You still keep hanging around.”

“It’s not that bad; dealing with your bullshit. Besides, I kinda like you.”

“Kinda, huh?” 

“Just a bit.”

“I kind of like you too. And I wouldn’t mind if you hung out around here for the next...I don’t know...fifty years.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I’m kinda comfortable. I can think of worse lives. I’ve LIVED worse lives.”

“Well now you’re spoiled. Insanely. You’re like that mangy little kitten someone finds in a gutter and nurses back to health and they get all fat and happy and get to sleep all over the furniture.”

He grins. “Did you seriously just compare me to a stray animal?”

“Hey, you needed some work when we first met. You were a little...feral. You were living in a shack with a chicken as a roommate.”

“Roommate? That’s my child you’re talking about.”

“You were pretty rough around the edges. You needed some big time TLC. And I was more than willing to give you that. You had potential. I saw it. You weren’t as scary as you liked to think you were.”

“Maybe not to you. I wasn’t like that with you. I was trying NOT to be.”

“Until you had your meltdown over having the feels and you tried to choke me out.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” Tyler admits. “But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to scare you. Because I didn’t want you getting all caught up in something and then have me fuck it up and disappoint you. I was trying to protect you.”

“From you?”

He nods.

“I wasn’t afraid of you. I didn’t think you’d hurt me. I could tell you weren’t that type; to put your hands on a woman. No matter how angry you got.”

“It wasn’t about hurting you THAT way. It was about us taking things too far and feeling things for each other and trying to make something of nothing. I wanted that to happen, but I was scared that it would. Doesn’t make much sense, I know.”

“I think you were trying to protect yourself more than you were trying to protect me.”

“Maybe. I guess I worried I was feeling too much, too soon. That you’d find out who I really was and you’d run. I didn’t want to get attached and have you take off because you couldn’t deal with my shit. In the same way I didn’t want you getting attached and finding out I was too much of a mess and regretting what happened between us.”

“That was NEVER going to happen. I knew you were different. I SAW you, Tyler. Who you really were. Behind those walls you built up. Behind that whole hardened and emotionally vacant mercenary act you put on. I saw it the second we met. It was all in your eyes. That you weren’t like everyone else.”

“I think you give me way too much credit.”

“And you don’t give yourself enough.” Her thumb moves to the scar on the left side of his forehead; thin yet jagged, running vertically. “I was thinking about that first night. In Dhaka. After we...you know.”

“Fucked? Four times?”

“Normally I’d tell you not to be so crude and that it was a little more softer and meaningful than that, but…”

“There was nothing soft or meaningful about ANY of those four times. It was fucking. Let’s not sugar coat it.”

“Whatever it was, it was amazing. YOU were amazing. But do you remember afterwards? When I cuddled up to you? And you wondered what the fuck was going on? You didn’t know how to react; you sort of froze up and didn’t even budge. Were you angry or…?”

“Why would I have been angry? There was nothing to be angry about. I’d just gotten through having the most incredible sex of my life. FOUR times. I had a beautiful, amazing woman in my bed. Still naked. I definitely was not angry.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Surprised. I wasn’t used to that. The whole afterglow thing. I was used to just getting shit done and getting the fuck out. And my ex wasn’t into that kind of shit. She was a roll over and go to sleep kind of girl.”

“You poor, neglected man. Never getting to enjoy the aftermath. You made up for it though. With me.”

“That I did. I was just surprised when you did it. Cuddled up to me like you did. But I definitely wasn’t angry. Or uncomfortable. It was just different. YOU were different. Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. It felt good. It felt right. And I figured if something feels that right? There’s no way anything could be bad about it.”

“I love this side of you,” she declares, and presses a kiss to his temple. “This softer, sweet side. I mean, I love all sides of you. But this? This is always a breath of fresh air. And it did; feel right. What was going on with us. And it kind of scared me too. I wasn’t used to that. Feeling things so quickly for someone. Trusting them the way I trusted you.”

“It was a little unnerving. I was a little spooked. But all’s well that ends well, yeah? I mean, here we are. Twelve and a half years under our belts, Me. Seven kids. I think it’s safe to say that we weren’t wrong about what we were feeling. Even if it did seem too soon. I kinda knew I was in trouble pretty early on.”

“When? When you saw me on your porch?”

“I had a feeling you’d be a handful,” he grins, and turns his face into hers; placing a kiss on her brow before resting the side of his nose against hers. “It was the second night though. When I told you about Austin. It had been years since I talked about him to anyone. And I just let it out. Something told me I could. But it did scare me.”

“What were you scared of?”

He shrugs. “Being that honest about things. So soon. I was worried I’d tell you what happened...what I did...and everything would change. I thought you’d be disgusted. That you’d look at me like I was a huge piece of shit. And I would have deserved it. If you did.”

“You made a mistake. We all do. You’re not perfect, Tyler. None of us are.”

“It wasn’t just a simple mistake. It was a horrible fucked up one. I took off. My kid had cancer. And I couldn’t handle it and I ran. Like I always do when shit gets too hard. I wasn’t even there. When he died. I left him and he spent the last of his days wondering where the fuck I was and asking what he did wrong that made me hate him enough to leave.”

“You were a different person back then. You couldn’t handle it. A lot of people wouldn’t be able to. And you had a lapse of judgement. Unfortunately, it ended up being way worse than you thought it would be.”

“I was worried once I told you about all of that, you’d hate me. That it would make you sick to even look at me.”

“I have never once hated you. Not even back then. I didn’t feel disgust. You know what I felt? I felt sad. For Austin. For you. That either of you had to go through that. My heart hurt for YOU. That your child got sick and you had to watch him suffer and that it was so painful to see that you made a bad decision. I was sad for you. Like I still am. But hate you? I could NEVER hate you. You have enough hate for yourself. To last a lifetime.”

“Yeah…” Tyler’s voice quivers with emotion. “...I guess I do.”

Smilingly softly, she combs her fingers through his hair. “You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, haven’t you.”

He nods.

“I know it gets extra difficult around this time of year. At Christmas. I know how hard it is for you. Trying to be happy and enjoy things while it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.”

“It’s not normally this bad. I mean, it’s bad. But THIS?” He swallows heavily around the rock of emotion sitting in his throat. “Never like THIS. I don’t know what it is. Why it’s hit me this hard this year. I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I see how much Millie and TJ are growing up. Or I see so much of Austin in both of them. It’s normally not like this. This bad.”

“It’s okay, you know. To feel this. You don’t have to hide that from anyone. Especially me.”

“I don’t want the kids seeing me like this. I don’t want them thinking they can’t be happy. It’s Christmas. They deserve to be happy and excited and to have the time of their lives. I don’t want them thinking they have to walk on eggshells because of me. Or that I’m not happy being with them. Because I am. Happy. With them. With you.”

“I know you are. You don’t have to convince me of that. I know how much you love us. How happy you are. I never doubt that.”

“I guess sometimes I feel guilty. That I am as happy as I am. That I did move on and have other kids. That I didn’t do it right by him but I turned around and made more kids I could screw things up with.”

“You are NOT screwing anything up. You are a great dad. An amazing dad. And your kids love you so much. They idolize you. You’re their daddy. There’s no one they love the way they love you.”

“He loved me. Idolized me. And look what I did. Look how I betrayed that. How I betrayed HIM.”

“It was a mistake.” Gentle fingertips brush away the tears that glisten on his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “You made a bad decision. But that doesn’t make you a monster, Tyler. It just makes you a man who screwed up. And you know what? Austin would want you to be happy. He’d want you to have a life. To have other kids. Because he’d know how much love you have and he’d want you to give that to other people. He would never deprive you of that; having other kids.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. The fact he died. Alone.”

“I know it’s of little consolation, but he wasn’t alone. His mom was with him. And I’m sure she told him how much you loved him. That she probably told him you had to go. Not that you chose to.”

“You give her a lot of credit. I can assure you that she DIDN’T say any of that. That he died knowing I abandoned him. That he died hating me.”

“A mother will do anything to protect their child from getting hurt. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she did. He was vulnerable and he was sick and I highly doubt she’d make that worse by shit talking you. I know I wouldn’t. That I’d never let any of my kids hear any of that. That if it had been me? I would have made sure he knew how much you wanted to be there and couldn’t. I would have told him how much you loved him. And would always love him.”

“You’re a different person, Me. She’s nothing like you. Not even in the slightest of ways.”

“I know at one time she loved you. And you loved her. That it wasn’t always bad. That there were some good memories too.”

“I did love her. But not the way that I love you. Not even close. What I have? With you? What I feel? That’s the real deal. Her? I don’t know what that was.”

“She was your highschool sweetheart. You thought you were destined to be together. It just didn’t work out.”

“Which is a good thing. Or I wouldn’t have what I have now. Which is why I’d never go back and change things. Even if I could. Because I change one thing, it changes everything. And I wouldn’t give you or my kids up for anything in this world. Which makes me feel like shit. That I wouldn’t bring back my first kid.”

“Tyler, don’t let your mind go there. That’s a very dark place and that is not where you need to be. I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry Austin got sick and died. That you had to go through that. But comparing what you had then to what you have now? That will lead to nowhere good. Stop tormenting yourself like this. You have a good life. One that you’re more than deserving of. You have people that love you. Don’t overlook that because you’re so busy looking back at things. You’re not betraying Austin because you had other kids. Because you found love and are loved. And I can guarantee you that he would not want you doing this to yourself.”

“It’s not that easy.” He frantically swipes at the tears that freely roll down his face. “I wish it was. I wish I could turn this all off. That I’d never feel a damn thing again.”

“And that’s not good EITHER. It’s okay to feel. You’re a human being. But dwelling on what you did? You’ll never really enjoy what you have if you keep doing that. And one day the kids WILL notice it. They’ll see the difference in you. And they’ll wonder why they weren’t enough. Why you didn’t love them the same way you loved him. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I do love them. They’re my kids. You have no idea how much I love them.”

“Then you need to let it go. Not Austin himself. But what happened. The decision you made. Because it WILL destroy what you have. It’ll destroy you. And you’ve come way too damn far to let that happen. I won’t LET it happen.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to keep going through this. I just want it over. I don’t want it to hurt so much. And I don’t know why it does. Why it’s so hard this time around. I don’t have an explanation, Me. I don’t why I’m like this. But trust me, I don’t want to be this way.”

“Come here…” she encourages, as her one hand finds the nape of his neck and the fingers of the other tangle in his hair. And she pulls him down into her; both of his arms wrapping tightly around her torso and his face nestled against her collarbone. “...it’s okay, Tyler. These times are going to come up. We were told this would happen. That you’d feel this way from time to time. You’ve had a great five years. You’ve avoided these kinds of moments. It was bound to creep up; sooner or later. Christmas is always a hard time for you. I get it. I know you can’t help it.”

“I don’t want to be this way,” he sobs against her. “I just want it to stop. How bad it hurts sometimes. I just want it to stop.”

“You’re going to be alright.” Her voice is soft and soothing; fingertips lightly massaging his scalp. “It’ll pass. You’ll get through this. Same way you’ve gotten through so many things. So many bad, BAD things. You’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this if you weren’t here. If you didn’t keep giving me chances. Putting up with all this shit. I wouldn’t even be here. Alive.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. I love you more and more every day. And I’m not going anywhere. You know how you always say ‘I got you’? Well I’VE got YOU.”

“I love you. So much. I wish there was a way of telling you HOW much.”

“You don’t need to say it." She drops a kiss on the top of his head. “I know. You make it perfectly clear. In your own way.”

“Thank you. For this. For everything.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him, and runs her fingers through his hair. “I won’t let you fall either.”


	18. Bruised, Not Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of mental illness, near death experiences, angst

“He’s struggling,” Esme says the following morning, as she leans stomach first against the kitchen island, cell phone pressed to her ear and an oversized mug of steaming tea staring invitingly up at her. “Badly.”

It’s eight thirty in the morning and she’s exhausted; a night full of broken sleep and attempting to fend off the monsters that accompany the reality of mental illness. It hadn’t been that bad in a long time; inconsolable, body wracking sobs that quickly transition into feelings of frustration and embarrassment, followed by a period of self loathing and disgust, finished off by intense rage directed at the mental illness itself and the people and experiences that directly caused it. It’s a hell of a thing to go through. Holding your six foot three, two hundred pound husband while he desperately clings to you and weeps like a terrified and wounded child. Able to do little more than offer verbal reassurance and attempt to comfort by running your fingers through his hair or rubbing his back. THAT isn’t the difficult part; the soothing comes easily and naturally and he normally responds quickly. Even the shame he feels afterwards is relatively easy to cope with. She can fend that off by staying calm and explaining why he doesn’t need to feel that way; somewhat convincing him that there’s no need for embarrassment just because he had a moment of vulnerability and weakness. Reminding him that he IS human; he’s allowed to feel hurt and pain and be frustrated and confused. But it’s the anger that takes over; all consuming and powerful and making it impossible to get through to him. She’d long ago learned that it’s best to just sit back and not say anything; let him rant and rave and vigorously pace the floor. Redirecting doesn’t work; he becomes defensive and accusatory and every little suggestion is taken as a personal attack or judgement. Silence IS golden when he goes off the deep end. Relegating herself to just listening and acknowledging what's happening to him and conveying understanding through body language and actions as opposed to words.

It always ends the same way. With pure physical and emotional exhaustion taking over. All the rage and tears expended and leaving him feeling empty and worn out; crawling back into bed and turning his back towards her in a silent request to just leave him alone. And she gives him that; a hand resting on the top of his head or upon his shoulder, yet no words ever exchanged. Staring up at the ceiling with tears of her own streaming down her face; a mixture of her own frustration and anger and pure and profound heartache. Not only hating to see the person she loves more than anything in the world hurting so badly, but detesting the fact she can’t do anything to take it all away. 

“He always struggles at Christmas,” Ovi reminds her, and over the line she can hear the babbling of the littlest and the various voices belonging to characters on Sesame Street. It’s surreal at times; acknowledging just who he is now and how far he’s come. Easily remembering him as that scared and traumatized teenager and then having to remind herself that he’s a grown man; a wife and children of his own and well on his way to becoming a pediatrician. 

“It’s different this year. It’s not just sadness. It’s frustration and it’s rage and it’s so much self loathing. I know we were told that this would happen; he’d go through these kinds of ups and downs. But he’s been doing so well and he’s been coping and hasn’t had a downward spiral like this in so long.”

“What is it he’s actually getting worked up over? What’s setting him off?”

“He’s been thinking a lot about Austin. He mentioned how it was bothering him how much Millie and TJ look like him. I mean, he’s always sad at Christmas. It’s always difficult for him. But it’s not like THIS.”

“Maybe he’s wondering what Austin would be like now. Or what he would have been like when he was Millie and TJ’s ages. And if he’s already down and out because of the holiday, adding that into the mix COULD make it worse.”

“It’s been years since he was THIS bad. You know how well he’s been doing. Everything’s been under control. He’s been managing it. Extremely well.”

“And he’s still going to therapy?”

“Religiously. By himself AND with me. And you know what a miracle THAT is. Him even agreeing to getting help in the first place.”

“Is he taking his meds? If he’s been off them or been skipping them…”

“I’ve checked. I went and counted them myself. There’s no extra. He’s been taking them. And I fucking hate that I even have to do that. Check up on him like that. He’s a grown man. He’s forty-seven years old and I’m treating him like he’s a child. I hate that I have to do that. I hate this whole fucking thing. This whole illness.”

“Unfortunately, he’s shown that he can’t be trusted. When it comes to meds. It’s a horrible thing to say, but…”

“This is just so unfair,” she laments, and lifts the mug of tea to her lips. “ That he’s suffering like this. He’s paid his dues, Ovi. And then some. Why does he have to KEEP paying? Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t what happened twelve and half years ago a big enough price to pay? He doesn’t deserve this. This kind of pain. I’d rather see him physically struggling than this. Because at least I know that pain will subside. But this? I fucking hate this. And I can’t see Christmas being the only thing causing this. He’s never this bad.”

“How’d he seem when he got back? From Cambodia?”

“Tired. A little sore. But he seemed fine. He was glad to be home and in great spirits. He’s been...I don’t know...he’s been Tyler. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, it seemed like there was some underlying sadness, but I just chalked it up to it being Christmas and him always have a hard time.”

“Could something have happened while he was away? Could something have triggered it?”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just that the guys he took out were pretty much the biggest pieces of garbage he’s ever encountered. And that’s saying a lot; considering how many years he’s been doing the job and how many assholes he’s taken out. I guess they didn’t stop at just drug running and weapons trafficking. Apparently they abused women. And children. In the worst ways possible.”

“That could do it. Probably hit close to home. Hearing about someone taking advantage of kids like that.”

“He did seem rather vengeful about it. Satisfied, even. That he got the chance to take out people like that. And I don’t blame him; those people are scum and they deserve to put down in the most painful way possible. And he did say that it made him think about his kids. He kind of started dwelling on it; what would happen and how he’d react if anyone touched his kids like that.”

“That’s probably what did it,” Ovi concludes. “It’s probably been just eating away at him. It’s probably all he’s been thinking about; his own kids getting victimized like that. And you know Tyler. Once something is in his head, it lives there rent free. For a long time.”

“I try to get him to focus on other things; cut him off at the pass before he even gets down that rabbit hole. Usually it works; I can distract him and get him thinking about other things. And I thought it DID work. Guess I’m not as good at all of this as I think.”

“I think you need to cut yourself some slack. If anything, you do TOO much. You take too much on. You’ve got seven kids you’re taking care of. You’re dealing with Tyler’s issues. Are you taking care of yourself? Has anyone asked you how YOU’RE doing? Because that’s just as important.”

“I’m doing okay,” she lies, and swallows a mouthful of tea. “I’m fine.”

She feels anything but; weary to her bones and longing to be home. Six years ago, Australia had become her happy place; a beautiful home backing out onto the beach and the ocean in such short walking distance. There’s a bliss that comes with being there. The feel of the sand beneath your feet and between your toes, the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the smell of salt that hangs heavily in the air. It represents everything that is beautiful and good in her life; incredible little human beings she’d had a hand in making and a man that loves her more than anything in the world and practically worships the ground she walks on. Everyone seems happier there; content with the sunshine and the warm temperatures and the close relationship with nature. The pace of life seems slower; more laid back and relaxing and not possessing the amount of stress and tension that being in the States in the middle of winter seems to bring. And while she loves it in New York -the convenience that comes with a big city and the amount of activities to keep yourself busy that are available- she’d willingly give it all up if meant it would alleviate some of the suffering that Tyler’s mental illness brings upon him.

“You realize I know you’re lying, right?" Ovi says. "That I lived with you for years and I know exactly how you get; taking on the world’s problems and not paying attention to your own. You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep ignoring yourself because you’re so busy trying to solve everyone else’s issues. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You burn yourself out and you’ll be no good to anyone. Especially the kids.”

“I don’t have time to worry about myself. Or the energy. There are far more important things going on than what I’m going through.”

“So you’re NOT fine.”

“It’s stressful. It’s Christmas. I always get like this at Christmas. It’s all those ridiculous standards my mother put on us when we were young. Everything had to look and be perfect on the surface so no one really knew just how messy it all was underneath. I can’t get out of that; that line of thinking. And yes, I DO know that’s unhealthy, Doctor Mahajan.”

Ovi chuckles. “Let’s not go tossing that title around just yet. I’ve got a few more years to go. Especially when I’m going into a speciality.”

“Listen, if I want to call my kid a doctor, I will. I’m proud of you. I know how far you’ve come. Everything you’ve gone up against and battled through. I still remember fourteen year old you. Keeping you occupied in that factory; talking about movies and girls and school.”

“I still remember when you showed up. Wondering who the hell you were and thinking ‘how the hell is someone THAT small going to help us?’. Talk about not being able to judge a book by it’s cover. Tyler was right; it is the tiny ones you have to watch out for.”

Smiling, she takes a sip of tea and then perches herself on the edge of the counter. “Do you remember when we used to go into town and get ice cream? In Telluride? When you had your last period off in high school and you’d come home early and it would just be the two of us?”

“I LOVED that place. That was like a childhood dream come true! Walls of candy and thirty flavours of ice cream and these enormous banana splits and massive sundaes. Remember that time we shared that really huge hot fudge one? With the whipped cream and the peanuts on it? I think it was called the Beast or something like that.”

“The Behemoth,” she laughs. “I DO remember that. We sat outside and shared it. We even flipped a coin to see who got to eat the cherry that was on the top.”

“I am still mad at you for winning that. I really wanted that cherry. Those are some of my best memories, you know. The things we’d do together. When Tyler was away and Millie and the twins were at school. We used to have some fun. I used to love when we went bowling. And we’d eat french fries soaked in vinegar.”

“And those really horrible hamburgers. With the flat patties. And no taste. That seems so long ago. You were what? Eighteen? If that?”

“Just turned seventeen. And that IS a long time ago. I AM twenty seven now.”

“And you have your own wife and your own kids. And you’re a doctor.”

“Not yet,” he laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Let’s not pretend it won’t happen. We both know it will. And I am; proud of you. So proud. You have come so far, Ovi. To do as well as you have after everything you went through. You would have had every right to have issues.”

“I had two people that loved me and believed in me. That made me realize I could do whatever I wanted. BE who I wanted. If I hadn’t had you guys? I wouldn’t be where I am now. I probably would have followed in his footsteps. I would have felt obligated to. Scared and pressured into it. And it would have just kept that whole vicious and toxic cycle going.”

“I know we weren’t perfect. I know Tyler and I went through some shit that you had to listen to and witness. But all we’ve ever wanted is the best for you. For you to realize how amazing you are. How much potential you have. And all we wanted to do was give you a good life. Even if at the time we didn’t have the money you once had and sometimes it seemed we didn’t have much to offer you. All we wanted was to give you a family.”

“You did. And it never mattered what you could and couldn’t give me. Materialistically speaking. All that mattered was that you loved me. And I felt that. I ALWAYS felt that.”

“It’s strange, huh? How something so crazy and scary brought us together? How complete strangers can become family? It’s surreal.”

“It wasn’t the most conventional of meetings, but it certainly turned out pretty amazing. You know what I remember the most? About back then? When we did meet? I remember being on that bridge with you. And how you refused to separate from me. You said you wouldn’t leave me. And you didn’t. Even I was slowing you down, you never abandoned me. And you didn't treat me like you were doing a job or I was some kind of package. There was no money, but you still stuck by me.”

“We were in it together. I wasn’t going to sacrifice you to save myself. That’s just not who I am. I wasn’t going to leave you. In the same way I wasn’t going to leave Tyler there. There was no way I was doing that; taking off and leaving him there to die. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. My conscience couldn’t handle it. And selfishly, I wanted him alive. I wanted to get to know him and be with him.”

“Hell of a way to profess your love for someone. Willingly sacrifice your life to try and save them. Stick your fingers in their neck to keep them alive. Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like that.”

“It was quite the ordeal,” Esme agrees, and finishes off the remains of her tea. “You know, sometimes it feels like just yesterday. Other times it feels like forty years. But if I close my eyes and I try hard enough, I can actually remember what it felt like to be there. How scared I actually was. I can hear the gunshots and the explosions and my own heart pounding in my chest. I can even still smell things; blood and gasoline and gunpowder.”

“I believe that’s something referred to as PTSD.”

“Listen buddy, you’re trying to become a pediatrician, NOT a shrink. Don’t go psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m just saying maybe it’s time you worked on what’s going on in YOUR head. Instead of worrying so much about what’s going on in Tyler’s. I know you love him. I know you’d do anything for him. You go hard core Mother Hen when he gets like this. And I know you can’t help it and I know he appreciates everything you do for him. But you know what else I know? I know he doesn’t expect you to forget about yourself while constantly taking care of him. He’s a grown man. And he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“It’s easier said than done. I can’t just let him fend for himself. I can’t just let him spiral out of control and do nothing more than hope for the best. He’s my husband. The father of my kids. And it kills me to see him like this. To know he’s in so much pain. To hear him talk about himself like he does.”

“When he gets like this, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or saying. He just lashes out. He doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes he had died five years ago. Or twelve and a half years ago. That’s just his brain telling him this shit. Do you think he’s in crisis? Do you think he’d hurt himself? Try something stupid?”

“No. I don’t think he WANTS to die. I think he just wants this over. The pain he’s in. He just wants it to stop.”

“He’s going through a depressive stage. It’s to be expected. I mean, it sucks it’s happening right now. At Christmas. What’s he doing right now?”

“Sleeping.” She looks out towards the living room; Tyler fast asleep on the couch, on his stomach with the comforter from TJ’s bed tossed over him and an arm and a leg dangling over the side. The night hadn’t gotten any better after he’d fallen asleep. Tossing and turning and having nightmares; finally coming downstairs to take up residence on the sofa and give her the chance to get a peaceful, undisturbed rest. But she hadn’t been able to. Too worried about him and wanting nothing more than to go downstairs and join him on the couch, yet knowing his current mood, her actions wouldn’t be well received. “He’s on the couch right now. It was a rough night. Nightmares.”

“About?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Which means they were about Dhaka. Most likely about the bridge. He’ll talk to me about Nathan, but not about the bridge. He avoids that like the plague. More for me than for him.”

“Have you called his therapist? Told him what’s going on? Maybe he has some suggestions; things that can alleviate some of the anxiety and the panic. Help him sleep better.”

“If it gets worse, I’ll call. This could have been a one off. It might have just been a delayed reaction to being away.”

“If it wasn’t and he DOES get any worse? Call. Don’t hesitate. Or take him to the emergency. Or call me and I’ll take him.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. He’s resting now. Which is a good sign. Last time he went into a depressive state, he didn’t sleep for a week. I’ll give it a couple days. At least get past Christmas. Once it’s over, he might perk up.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me. If he gets worse or you sense he’s spiralling out of control. I’ll be there. As soon as I can.”

“You have your own life. Riya and the kids. I can’t…”

“That’s my dad. I want to help. LET me help. It’s the least I can do. I’ve to go for now though; promised Mykayla we’d go see Santa in Central Park. She has some last minute gift ideas to drop in his lap.”

“Give her and Tabbi a kiss from Grandma Me. Tell them I love them. Riya too. I love you, Ovi. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll give them tons and hugs and kisses from you,” he promises. “And I love you too, mom.”

****

She’s sitting in the sunroom when he wakes an hour later; listening to him shuffle through the living room and into the guest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Minutes later he’s heading towards her; yawning noisily and his eyes heavy lidded. And she glances up from the laptop resting upon her thighs when he pads into the room; clad in a pair of tattered and faded plaid pyjama bottoms and no shirt. And she can’t help but think about how adorable he looks; a giant of man boasting his fair share of tattoos and scars, his hair mussed from sleep and a sporting pout of both sleepiness and annoyance. 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” she cheerfully greets, and tilts her head back to smile at him. “How you feeling?”

“Alright I guess.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and then rakes his fingers through his hair. “Can you stand up for a second?”

She cocks her head to the side, a quizzical look on her face.

He manages a small smile, then runs a gentle palm over her hair and adds, “Please?”

Obliging, she places the laptop on the seat cushion next to her and then joins him at the side of the couch; immediately gathered into his embrace and pulled tightly into his chest. And she climbs onto the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order for her arms to reach their final destination; wrapped tightly around his neck. For several minutes neither of them speak; eyes closed and their warm bodies pressed together, a forearm holding her in place and a palm cradling the back of her head. He feels so good; his body hard and strong and never failing to make her feel safe. It’s never been a worry of hers; whether or not he’d be able to defend her if someone hell bent on revenge was determined to hurt his family. And she rests easy at night knowing what he’s capable of and that he’d do whatever it takes -even giving up his own life if need be- to protect her.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he gently tugs on the short, soft tresses, forcing her to pull back and look at him. She hates what she sees in his eyes; that darkness that betrays just how lost and confused and scared he actually is. A man that always has always been so strong and so fearless; fighting other peoples battles while refusing to address his own. And it breaks her heart. Knowing that the things he’s capable of -the fierceness and the tenacity and the sheer brutality he’s reined down on people- are some of the many reasons he’s now feeling so weak and vulnerable. So good at the job, yet suffering so badly because of it.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She reaches up to push limp bangs away from his forehead. Trying desperately to keep her own fears and worries from betraying her. He doesn’t need that right now; her coming undone and weeping in HIS arms. It’s time for her to be the strong one; holding him up and supporting him and never making him feel like a burden. “For what? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“The way I acted. Going off the deep end like I did. I hate that you have to see that. Hear the shit I say. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Tyler, you’re sick. It's a legitimate illness. And you know what? You’ve had an amazing five years. Barely any depressive or manic episodes. Things have been pretty stable and pretty smooth sailing. But we were told this could happen. That you could crash like you did. It’s just part of it. And you can’t help it. You don’t know what you’re doing or what you’re saying and…”

“I DO know what I’m doing. And what I’m saying. I’m not blacking out when it happens. I know exactly what’s going on when it’s happening.”

“It doesn’t mean you have control over it. Because you DON’T. It’s your brain. And when things go haywire, you can’t stop the things you do and the things you say. And you’re not to blame for that. You can’t control what is going on. And I know that’s what scares you the most; the loss of control.”

“I just hate that you have to be there. When it happens. That you have to see that shit and hear the things that come out of my mouth. I hate that it hurts you. That I hurt you.”

“You don’t hurt me. I hurt for you. That’s two entirely different things. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I know things were great and it seemed like it was completely under control. But baby, this is going to happen. Whether we want it to or not. We can’t stop it. It’s just the nature of the beast, unfortunately.”

“If I’d died five years ago...twelve and a half years ago…”

“Listen to me,” she pleads and takes his face in her hands. “DON’T go there. That is a very dark place and if you go there, you may never get back out. You are here for a reason. You’re here because you deserve to be. Because there’s people that love you. That NEED you. You helped me make seven beautiful little humans. None of them would exist if you weren’t here. Isn’t that enough? Knowing they’re alive because you are?”

“Of course it’s enough. But they shouldn’t have to live with this. YOU shouldn’t have to.”

“You are not the burden you think you are. It’s an illness. You can’t help what’s going on and you didn't do anything to cause it. It’s not your fault. Your brain didn’t do this to you because of something you did. It’s so many things. And you know what? It sucks. Huge. And I hate that this is happening to you. I hate that you are at war with your own mind every second of every goddamn day. But I won’t let you talk like that. I won’t let you say that you should have died. I won’t let you completely discount the life that you have now. Because I didn’t stick around on that fucking bridge and put my ass on the line so you could turn around and totally disregard that you were given a second chance for a reason.”

“I never asked you to stay. On that bridge. I never…”

“I stayed because you deserved to live. Because you’d paid your dues and you got your absolution. And you know what? Maybe part of it was selfish. Because I knew we could have something amazing if you stopped hating yourself long enough to let me love you. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you really wanted to die that day? That you would go back and change that if you could? Even knowing you wouldn’t have what you have now. Someone that loves you more than they love themselves. Seven kids that think the sun rises and sets on you. Would you really go back and change everything? Would you really choose to die?”

“No,” he blinks back the tears that threaten to escape. “I wouldn’t. I would choose you. And my kids. Every day.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry you’re hurting as much as you are. And I would give anything to take that all away and make you healthy. But you are not broken and I won’t let you destroy what you have. I won’t let your brain destroy YOU.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this. Take care of me like this. Do you know what this is like? How fucking embarrassing it is? That you have to take care of ME?”

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your kids. I have you seen at your absolute worst. I’ve seen you inches from death. This? This is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen and heard. You should never be embarrassed around me. I’m not going to judge you. And it's okay to be weak. To have vulnerable moments. You’re a goddamn human being.”

“I hate it. Being like that. Being weak.”

“Because you were told that it makes you less of a man. You had that drilled into your head from the time you were a little boy. And you know what? Nothing could be further from the truth. It takes a strong man to break down and admit they need help. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You do battle every second of every day with your own mind. And you always keep going. THAT’S brave.”

“I don’t feel it. I feel weak and pathetic and…”

“You are not any of those things. Look at everything you’ve been through. From the time you were a little boy until now. A weaker man would have given up a long time ago. But you? You fight back and you never give up and get back on your feet time and time again. That is strength, Tyler. The fact you suffer like you do but you get up every day and you smile when all you want to do is cry and you love your family with everything you have and bust your ass to make them happy even though you feel like you’re drowning. THAT? That is so far from being weak and pathetic.”

Sighing heavily, he glances away; swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his throat. 

Pressing her fingers into his cheek, she turns his face back towards her. “I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And I fell in love with you knowing how messed up things were and what kind of torment and pain you were carrying. None of that matters to me. Because I know who you are outside of all of that. I know that you’re loving and you’re caring and you have a heart that’s even bigger than your body. I know how deep and powerfully you love DESPITE everything you’ve been through. I didn’t back away then, and I’m sure as hell not backing away now. So you can try as hard as you want to push me away, but you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

“That’s not so bad,” he chides through threatening tears. “I mean, I can think of way worse fates.”

“I will love you and take care of you until your last breath. And you know what? I’ll love you even after that.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“That’s your brain trying to convince you of that. And I know its voice is deafening and it seems impossible to ignore it, but you’ve got to try and shut it out. Concentrate on what I’m saying to you. Because what I’m telling you? It’s the truth. I’d never lie to you. So you need to pay attention to me, okay? And the things I say. I am way stronger and more tenacious than that voice inside of your head. Can you do that? Listen to me? Because I would never….ever...steer you wrong. You know that, right?”

“I do. I do know that. And I trust you. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t trust my own brain anymore.”

“Then just rely on mine. Rely on ME. To give you the truth. Can you do that?”

“I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. Now…” she lays her hands on his chest and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “...you hungry? What do you want for breakfast? I know I’m not actually the top chef YOU are, but I do make a mean veggie omelette. And you do like my french toast.”

“I thought maybe we could go out. To that little diner a few blocks over. The one that makes those Belgian waffles you like so much.”

“With the strawberries and the homemade whipped cream? I definitely could go for that. Are you sure though? That you’re up to it? It was a pretty rough night and…”

“I’m fine. Or I will be. It’s sunny out. The fresh air would do me some good I think. And we only have so much time without the kids left and I really do like our alone time. Outside of the bedroom.”

“So you don’t like the alone time in the bedroom?” she teases.

“I never said that. I LOVE that time.”

“A breakfast date with my favourite human sounds perfect.” Reaching up, she combs her fingers through his hair, pushing the longer strands off his forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know that? How hard you fight. A lesser man would have given up a long time ago.”

“I’ve got way too much to live for. Besides, I can’t go offing myself and then have to bear witness to you dating another guy. Or worse, marrying one.”

“Never going to happen. You’re it for me. There won’t be anyone after you. You’re stuck with me until the bitter end, Mister.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he takes her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

*****

“I talked to Ovi earlier,” Esme says, as they sit in the back corner of the diner. Sipping steaming mugs of tea; joined hands resting on the table top; fingers laced together and his thumb repeatedly brushing against hers.

The booth is a safe distance away from the main hub of activity; crowds of people and excessive noise caused by the rattle of dishes and numerous conversations and boisterous laughter taking place at the same time. It’s important to avoid any and all triggers, or to at least find ways to lessen the effects of something that could bring on ‘an episode’. On the short walk she’d noticed the tell tale signs that depression isn’t the only concern; the hyper-vigilance associated with his PTSD quickly creeping in. Exhibiting anxiety if he felt pedestrians were crowding around him on sidewalks or when waiting to cross the street. Glaring at anyone he felt was staring at him or in somehow posing even the slightest bit of a threat towards her; jaw clenching as he tightly brought her into his side or put a hand on the back of her neck while drawing him in front of her. And the glances cast over his shoulder; eyes constantly scanning for anything and everything that could be considered suspicious or threatening, visibly tensing at every slam of a car door. 

It’s both disheartening and worrisome; to see him regressing back to old behaviours after years of coping so well. Being off the street has helped; his shoulders not as tense, jaw no longer clenched, eyes not surveying the crowd with so much apprehension and simmering anger. But he still insists on being the one to sit facing the door; able to physically handle a threat if one came in their direction. And while she knows those chances are rare and his brain is far from thinking rationally, she doesn’t argue or try to change his mind; squeezing his arm and giving him a reassuring smile before switching seats.

Tyler doesn’t look up from the menu open in front of him. “About me?”

“Yes,” she admits, and refuses to allow him to pull his hand away from hers. “I told him what happened last night. About how you’re struggling.”

“Why? Why would you tell him? He’s got his own shit to deal with. He doesn’t need to hear about what’s going on with me.”

“I told him because he loves you. Because you’re his dad. And he worries about you. We both do.”

“He’s got his own life. His own wife, his own kids. Don’t bother him with that bullshit.”

“You and your issues are NOT bullshit. And you’re part of his life. You have been since he was fourteen years old. We took him in and we raised him and we gave him a family. And he loves you. He has every right to know what’s going on with you. And you know what? I have the right to have someone I can turn to. When I’m struggling.”

“I don’t mean to be such a burden on you. Make you struggle so much.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. I need someone I trust to help me, help you. And honestly, I need someone I can talk to. About all of this. Because it kills me inside that you’re struggling and you’re in so much pain. And I don’t want to put that on you, Tyler. Can you just accept that you’re surrounded by people who love you? That we’re trying to help? Let us love you, okay?”

Sighing, he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

“We’re just worried about you. We just want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine in a couple days. Once Christmas is over. I’ll act like everything is okay around the kids. So it doesn’t ruin things for them. I just need the holiday over with. I’ll be okay once it is.”

“I’m sure you will.” She hopes she sounds more confident than she feels. “It’s always a hard time. The holidays. And you know, seeing the kids so happy Christmas morning will help too. You know how cute that is; how excited they are, their faces all lit up when they see all the presents. It’s kind of hard NOT to smile when you see all of that. So that gives you something to look forward to, right?”

“You know what I’m NOT looking forward to? How many times they wake us up between midnight and five am.”

“It felt like every half hour last year.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been up until two in the morning putting together that stupid dollhouse we got for Addie and Brooklyn. Having to decorate every damn room and put out all those little forks and knives and plates and shit.”

“You were a pro. I was quite impressed how those huge hands of yours dealt with teeny tiny cutlery. And I have to say, you have quite the eye when it comes to interior design. Maybe you should be in charge of picking out decor for the house from here on out.”

“That’s not the deal. You pick shit out and I live with it. Or you tell me what needs to be painted and what colour you want and I do it. Or I carry heavy shit. I’m happy with that; our arrangement. What else did he say? Ovi?”

“He said that Tabbi is up on her feet and starting to cruise the furniture. Finally sleeping through the night. Remember those days? The relief that comes with THAT?”

“We didn’t really get to experience that until Takota and Brookie started sleeping through the night. They’re last so we didn’t have any babies after them to worry about. The rest of them?”

“One started sleeping through the night, another baby was born. We were pretty busy those first seven years.”

“You know, you could have always said ‘no’ a few times. You didn’t always have to put out every time I asked you to.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on the fun? You can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

He grins. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“And Mykayla starts preschool next week. Can you believe that? Our first grand baby is going to be in preschool! It seems like she was just born. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact I have two grandkids.”

“For what it’s worth, I think we’re pretty sexy grandparents. You’re a damn fine grandpa.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I don’t care. You ARE a grandpa. You ARE grandpa Tyler.”

“Makes me feel so fucking old. Way older than I actually am.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you’re the hottest grandpa around. I’d still do ya.”

“Yeah? Well I definitely wouldn’t say no to you. You’re kinda hot yourself. For a grandma.”

“What about when I’m the grandma who can barely see or hear and my hair is snow white and my body a total dumpster fire?”

“You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

Smiling, she squeezes his hand and then smiles at the waitress who returns to refill his coffee and take their orders. For several minutes they sit in silence; his thumb sliding down to the base of her wrist and continuing its slow and methodical caress, eyes flicking back and forth as they constantly survey the surroundings and their fellow diners. She’s seen that look before; cautious and wary, as if expecting a threat to announce its presence any second. And it’s a side that she hasn’t seen in years; since extensive therapy began to help control the hyper-vigilance and paranoia.

“Hey…” she taps the toe of a boot against his shin in order to grab his attention. “...you okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages a smile; that half assed turning up of one corner of his mouth. “I’m good.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like an armed robber is going to come barging and start shooting up the place. Do you want to get our order to go? Eat at home? Where you’re more comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable here. I’m fine, Me. Honest.”

“You are NOT fine. You are far from fine. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. I’m safe, Tyler. Nothing is going to happen. I’m with you. Which means nothing or no one can hurt me. I trust you. I know you can protect me if you have to. I am one hundred percent safe because I am with YOU.”

“What if I can’t? Protect you?”

“You can. You’ve always been able to. Nothing’s changed. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m here with you and everything is right in the world. Just try and relax, okay?”

“I’m not who I was back then. When we met.”

“I don’t expect you to be. And you know what? You’re better than you were. You’re stronger and you’re healthier and I trust you one hundred percent. There’s nothing you can’t handle. Nothing you can’t beat. Everything is fine. I’M fine. You need to just try and relax, alright? Nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I’m with you.”

The tension slightly lifts; the stiffness in his shoulders easing and the frantic bouncing of his leg finally stopping. But she notices the way his hand shakes when he lifts when he lifts the coffee mug to his lips.

“Do you want to go? Do you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack?”

“No. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Here…” reaching into her purse, she briefly rummages through it and pulls out a small vial of pills she’s grabbed from the stash in the lock box in the pantry; snapping off the lid and dropping two in her palm. “...just a couple. It’ll take the edge of. Calm you down. Take them. Please.”

He obliges, plucking the tablets from her palm and placing them under his tongue and allowing them to resolve. The silence that follows is nerve wracking. Feeling her own heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watches him from across the booth; an elbow resting on the table , eyes closed and his palm pressed against his forehead. And she’s unsure how much time has actually passed when he takes a sharp intake of breath; eyes opening and his forearm coming to rest on the formica. 

“Good?” she asks, and softly runs her fingers over his. “You alright?”

“Better.”

“You’ll be okay. In a few minutes, you’ll be right as rain. You’re doing good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch as he attempts a smile. “I was thinking that maybe we should go home. Earlier than we were going to. Maybe a couple days into New Years instead of a couple weeks.”

“Is that what you want to do? Go home?”

“Yeah…” he struggles to hold back a flood of tears; uttering a string of profanities and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed. Just pretend that no one else exists but me. That no one else is here. Just listen to my voice. You’re fine. It’s just your brain, Tyler. Ignore what it is telling you and pay attention to what I’m saying. I’m okay. I’m safe. Because I’m with you. Nothing is going to happen. There’s no one following us, there’s no out to get you, there’s no one that’s going to hurt me. There’s no threat. Everything is okay. Alright?”

Nodding, he takes a deep intake of breath and then releases it slow. “I want to go home.”

“Home as in our place here or…?”

“Home, home. Australia. I want to go home. As soon as we can. I NEED to go home.”

“I’ll change our flight plans. When we get back to the townhouse. I’ll call and set everything up. We’ll leave on the second, okay?”

“But the kids might be pissed. They might…”

“I’ll think of something to tell them. They don’t need to know what’s going on. Don’t worry about that, alright? I’ll take care of everything. I mean, if you really wanted to, we could leave earlier. Ovi knows you’re struggling and…”

“I can’t miss his wedding. I’m the best man. That’s my kid.”

“And he’d understand. If you needed to get out, he would totally have your back. Believe me, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t handle it here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and I’ll get through it. We’ll go to the wedding and we’ll have a good time and we’ll have our mommy and daddy only night. Then we can leave. On the second.”

“Okay,” Esme says, and reaches across the table to wipe away an errant tear that slips down his face. “You’re going to be okay.” she promises. “You always are. You’ve fought back against way worse.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his. “Enough for both of us.”


	19. Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Time in the gym does both the body AND mind some good.

He pushed himself to the point of near physical exhaustion; channelling all of the grief, guilt, and regret that always accompany a depressive episode and turning into something more productive. Music blasting through a pair of noise cancelling headphones as loud as his ears could stand it; powering through a full hour of extremely heavy weight lifting. Easily and effortlessly beating all previous personal bests and taking very few breaks to catch his breath or gulp down some water. Not switching gears into his muscles began to throb and burn and then turning his attention to an hour of cardio; running on the treadmill -despite his knee surgeon’s advice- and hammering out a record time on the rowing machine. The final hour was when he’d turned to the profound rage that always seems to linger just under the service. anger towards his father and Mahajan and Asif and Nathan; the latter being the one who had finally managed to break him both physically and mentally. And after sixty minutes of viciously and brutally assaulting the heavy bag with fists and feet, he’d been a mess; knuckles bleeding despite the presence of both gloves AND tape, his hair soaked and his body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, and rivers of tears pouring down his face. Normally he would have been embarrassed; such an open and raw display of emotion. But it had felt good; every one of those lingering demons and agonizing memories and emotions flooding out of him and providing him with a sense of relief. 

At least temporarily. 

Tearing off the headphones, he tosses them onto the nearest weight bench and toes off his sneakers. His head is swimming from both the excursion and the lack of water he’d consumed through the work out. A brief moment of nausea has him bending over at the waist; palms resting on burning, overworked thighs, eyes squeezed tightly shut. When the light headedness and the urge to vomit passes, he finally allows himself to collapse. Knees hitting the padded floor before he flops over onto his back; spreadeagled in the middle of the room with a hand over his racing heart and a forearm slung across his eyes. It’s been a while since he’d worked THAT hard; stretching the limits that had been placed on him by the various specialists who’d fixed -or attempted to- a broken and weary body five years ago. While for the most part recovery had gone well -despite the routine shed of blood, sweat, and tears- and most of the mobility had returned to normal, there’s still lines he shouldn’t cross. A fake knee and repaired tendons and ligaments can only handle so much, and despite his stubbornness and the loathing for feeling or appearing weak, he’s abided by the ‘rules’ placed upon him. Less time out in the field putting his body through hell, no extremely heavy lifting or long periods of repetitive movement, proper sleep and nutrition, and. a regiment of vitamins, supplements, and prescribed drugs to combat inflammation and fight pain.

The latter hasn’t been much of an issue. Gone are the days of chronic agony and severe sleep issues; replaced by moments of pain that are easily combated with a combination of ice and heat, and an average of six to hours of rest every night. But the depressive episode has him saying ‘fuck it’ to all the rules put upon him; the anger towards all of those who’d hurt him in the past driving him to push himself to -and past- the limits. The possibility of hurting himself a mere afterthought; caring only about proving to his father, Mahajan, Asif, and Nathan that while they could batter and bruise him, they hadn’t succeeded in destroying him.

“Tyler?” Esme’s voice from the doorway. 

While he’d retreated to the gym to work through his shit, she’d napped on the front couch. Saju curling up at her feet and Mac stretched out on the floor below; ears pricking and head raising to look at her every time she mumbled or twitched in her sleep. It’s an understanding and acceptance that they’d long ago come to; when a ‘mood’ sets in and he heads for the gym, she’d give him the space and time to work through his issues. It isn’t a normal work out, after all. Those she routinely wanders in upon; bringing him bottles of water or small healthy snacks and then sitting quietly nearby. Passing the time by watching him or reading a book or working on something on her laptop. It’s nice to have the company; just knowing she’s there and that he can talk to her whenever he feels like it. But when he’s going through an episode, everything changes; she recognizes both his need to be alone and to channel all the hurt and negative into something positive. In the same way he gives her the space to work through her own downswings; knowing whenever she retreats outside and sits by at water alone that she’s in dire need of a little ‘mental break’. And that’s what makes them so amazing together and why things have become stronger; knowing each other’s limits and respecting their needs and never infringing upon them. 

“Yeah?”

She lingers in the doorway. Refusing to just ‘invade’ his space; either requesting to be allowed into it, or waiting for an invite. “You alive?”

“I answered you, didn’t I?”

“Don’t be a smart ass. You alright?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Although you might want to stay close; I may need CPR.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a ‘mouth to mouth’ expert.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You definitely are. You’re an expert on mouth to many things.”

“Have you been told today? That you can be a pig?”

“Not yet. But no day’s complete without hearing it at least once.”

“Can I come in? I come bearing gifts.”

“You naked?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Maybe. Once blood flow returns to the rest of my body and things start working properly again.”

“So is that a yes or a no? Can I come in? Even if I’m NOT naked?”

“Of course you can, babe.” Raking his fingers through his sweat soaked hair, he grimaces as he pushes his weary and achy body into a sit; propped on his elbows, legs stretched out in front him. "You know, you don’t really HAVE to ask.”

“I do. We talked about this in therapy. Respecting one another’s need for space and clarity.” She tosses a towel onto his lap, then lowers herself to her knees beside him. Her own frown on her face when her hips and back rebel at the simple movement of dropping onto her butt. “And you needed it; time to yourself to work through things. Here…” she offers a tall plastic tumbler filled with a light pink concoction. “...your favorite of the smoothies I make. Banana, strawberries, raspberries, and all the powdered shit and seeds you always put in.”

“Best wife EVER.”

“No kale. I promise.”

“You’re lucky. Because that’s grounds for divorce.”

“It’s good for you.”

“It tastes like lawn clippings and the tears of baby animals.”

“And how would you know what the tears of baby animals taste like?”

“I have my secrets.” Reaching out, he lays a palm on the back of her head; fingers tangling in her hair as he draws her into a kiss. “Thank you.”

“I figured since you went way out of your comfort zone earlier and took me to breakfast…”

“I needed to eat too,” Tyler points out. 

“...the least I could do is make you a smoothie. And don’t even try and deny it. You did it solely for me; leaving the house. Same way you opened your eyes and managed to get off the couch. It was more for me than for yourself.”

“You really DO know me well.”

“Twelve and half years, Tae. You and me. Against the world.”

He smiles at the use of the long abandoned nickname. When she’d adopted it -a mixture of his name and the word ‘bae’- shortly after they’d gotten married; he grumbled and complained about it. It had been something else he hadn’t been used to; a pet name outside of the standard ‘babe’ or ‘honey’. But it had grown on him; in the same way accepting and giving affection had. Somewhere along the line she’d simply stopped using it. In the same way that he -for some reason he couldn't explain- had dropped the habit of calling her ‘Me’. But he had seen the way she’d reacted to its reappearance five years ago; the way her eyes sparkled in fond remembrance, the beautiful, soft smile that he curved her lips. And that had been encouragement enough to bring the nickname back permanently. 

“We DO have seven minions to help out,” he reminds her. “If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse. I know we have all our money on TJ, Declan, and Millie, but something tells me not to discount the littles. Addie’s all sunshine and sparkles, but she can handle herself. Brooklyn? We’ve seen how scrappy she is. And I think Takota has a savage side we haven’t seen yet.”

“He’s the wild card, I bet. The one no one expects. Tiny, but able to totally kick some ass.”

“Like his momma. Tenacious and fierce. Definitely two of the reasons I couldn’t resist you.”

“What are the other ones?”

“Your eyes. Your smile. The sound of your voice. Your ass.”

Laughing, she snags the towel off his thighs and vigorously scrubs at his damp hair. “I knew THAT was going to get thrown in. You’ve always been an ass man.”

“No, I’m a ‘Esme’s ass’ man. There’s a difference. You complain about it being bigger now? It’s just hotter and sexier babe.”

“You are way too easy to please,” she declares, and loops the towel around his neck; using the ends to pull him into a kiss. “You feel okay? You were in here for a LONG time.”

“Feeling better. It’s not as bad as it was. It’s there, but it’s definitely not as rough.”

“Good,” she says, and tosses the towel aside; a hand finding the middle of his back as he pushes himself up into a sit. It’s a small gesture; one of both comfort and assistance. That mothering side that she’s unable to reign in. 

“You sleep alright?”

“I did. I needed it. It was a rough night.”

“I’m sorry. I…”

“Nope.” She covers his mouth with her palm. “You are not doing that. I won’t allow it. You are not apologizing for things that are way beyond your control. You didn’t ask to be this way, and you damn well didn’t deserve everything that causes you to be like this. So you will NOT say you’re sorry. You will never say it. And you should never feel that you have to. Got it?”

“Got it,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her palm. “You didn’t put anything extra in this did you?” he inquires, as he lifts the cup to the lips. “Nothing illegal that’s going to knock me out for a few days? Or kill me?”

“Now why would I kill you? I like having you around. And besides, I haven’t updated your life insurance policy yet. So you’re safe. For a couple of months at least.”

“Should I be sleeping with one eye open?”

“I’d be too miserable without you. Not even on your most annoying days do I ever want to kill you. . Strangle the shit out of you, but not kill you. You’re safe. I promise you will escape my homicidal wrath if I ever completely lose it.” Reaching out, she runs her knuckles along his beard. “Want me to trim it later? You always like how I do it. And it gives me a chance to pamper you.”

“I’m going to leave it. Let it grow out. Maybe get it to how it was when we first met. Or when you called me ‘the lumberjack’.”

“Sexy,” she grins. “Not that you aren’t sexy ALL the time. But a full beard? Definitely one of my top five favourite Tyler things of all time list.”

“What are the other four things?”

“Your eyes, your voice, your hands, and the original haircut.”

“Still? You still get all hot and bothered over THAT?”

“It’s nostalgic. It’s how you looked when we met. I have a soft spot for it. It just reminds me how things started between us; as weird and unconventional as they were. There must be something you miss about me. OG Me. Something that you think about sometimes. My hair, the way I dressed, my body…”

“Definitely not that. Your body was amazing then, but it’s a hundred times more amazing now.”

“There has to be something. Even the smallest of things. That you sometimes sit back and think ‘you know what, I really missed when she had…’”

“Probably all your piercings. I kinda liked the belly button ring. And the tongue one? I would not argue if you went out and got that done again.”

“I am way past my prime when it comes to things like that. But you have your memories, babe. To get you through the cold, lonely nights.”

“The memories and my wank libraries,” he teases, and runs his palm up and down her thigh. Playfully pinching the soft flesh on the inside before settling his hand on her knee and turning his attention to the smoothie in his possession. 

Now that the nausea has abated, hunger has taken its place; body easily burning through the calories he’d consumed at breakfast and leaving his stomach an empty and growling pit. The drink temporarily hits the spot; filling the void and stopping the gnawing ache. He feels a hundred times better than he had that morning. Some of the heaviness lifting from both his head and his heart; the darkness nowhere as powerful and consuming, and the majority of the guilt, regret, and rage diminishing completely. Shards of it will linger; painful, hot knives stabbing just under the surface. And he turns focus away from the nagging emotions and the hurtful things his brain whispers in his ear; watching her as she places her palms flat on the floor behind her and leans back; eyes closed and her head tilted towards the ceilings. As if she's back home, sunning herself on the beach. 

His mind immediately goes to that dark and troublesome place; Dhaka twelve and a half years ago when he’d temporarily believed she’d died in the forest with the rest of the team. Even though the five days before had started out as nothing more than two broken and weary people physically using one another for both comfort and escape, things had quickly evolved. Long and often intense talks while caught up in a mess of sweaty, naked limbs and rumpled sheets; sharing their deepest and darkest secrets and tales of their most epic mistakes and their greatest regrets. And there’d been feelings. Things he hadn’t experienced in hell of a long time -if ever- and had been desperate to ignore. The thought of spending time with her and getting to know her better hadn’t sent him running for the hills; scared as hell to be feeling that way so fast, so soon but knowing he’d regret it if he DIDN’T take the chance. 

When Nik had told him that the entire team had been killed, the blow had been incredibly harsh; ripping the air clear out of his lungs and tightly constricting both throat and chest. Not the same level of profound and staggering grief he’d dealt when he’d lost his son, but the bitter loss of an ideal. What could have been brutally torn away; allowed to feel human again but not given the chance for it to thrive and grow. But hope had quickly been restored when Nik had said that Esme had somehow made it through the carnage and was making her way to him; waiting on pins and needles for her to make the long and arduous trek and feeling an immense sense of relief when she stepped through that office door. That had been the first time he’d nearly lost her before he’d ever really HAD her in the first place. And there’s been many chances since; opportunities for someone out to even the score to get their hands on her. Five years ago he’d decided it was no longer worth the risk; working behind the scenes adding an extra layer of security and protection when it came to his family. Because while she would no doubt survive his demise, he knows he wouldn’t be so lucky. He’d fall into old habits; his addictions returning with a powerful vengeance. And then he’d lose his children. The only remaining ties to their mother. 

He’s not a naive man. He knows he wouldn’t make it through. The loss and the grief would be too much to bear; the cold and lonely reality of having to live the rest of his life without the one person who had made him feel worthy and alive again.

“I made the arrangements,” she says, as her eyes flicker open and focus on him. “Our flight leaves at three. On the second. It was the earliest they could be here for.”

“We don’t HAVE to go back. Just because I’m having a hard time doesn’t mean…”

“Tyler, I want you to be comfortable. And happy. That’s all that matters. And I know that being home is exactly what you need; the sand and the water and the sunshine. I’m sorry if I pressured you into it; buying this place and wanting to spend Christmases here. I know it’s not your most favourite to be. That you’d rather be home.”

“I like being here. I like coming to the city; seeing Ovi and Riya and the grandkids. And I love this place. You didn’t pressure me into anything. You know me; I’m not a guy that’s easily pressured into shit. How long did I hold off on the whole idea? Of owning a place like this? Spending time in a huge city? Years.”

“But you gave in. Because you knew it would make me happy.”

“And because I felt ready. To try something new. Get out of my comfort zone.”

“But mostly for me.”

He gives a small smile in confirmation.

“And that makes me feel like the shittiest wife on earth. That you put your comfort and happiness on the back burner just for me. That’s selfish. On my part.”

“Babe, just because I’m struggling right now, doesn’t mean I struggle every time I’m here. I’m always happy when we come here. Home is wherever you and the kids are. Just this year? I don’t know. I’m just in a bad place, I guess. But you didn’t pressure me into anything and you’re not selfish and you’re not a shitty wife. Everything you did for me last night? Today at the diner? I’m pretty sure that cements your status as a fucking legend.”

“I like taking care of you. I like that you trust me enough; to let me see when you’re hurting and vulnerable.”

“I trust you with my life. With my kids’ lives. And I don’t say that about many people. You know I appreciate it, yeah? Everything you do. That if you’ve ever done. When it comes the job and the times I got fucked up and landed in the hospital and all this shit with my screwed up brain. You know I appreciate it, right? That I appreciate YOU.”

“I do. I don’t doubt that. I never have.”

“But I don’t expect it. You know that too, yeah? That I don’t expect you to put yourself on the back burner to solve my problems.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’ve been talking to Ovi, haven’t you.”

“He may have called. To check on me. And he may have also told me about how he’s worried about YOU. Not taking care of yourself.”

“There’s nothing for him to worry about. When you’re struggling, I struggle. Isn’t that a give in? If I was going through something rough, I’m sure you’d be feeling it too. We take care of each other. It’s what we do. It’s what we’ve ALWAYS done.”

“It is,” Tyler agrees. “But I know what you get like. When I’m having issues. You go full on savior mode. You always have. I mean, you kinda proved that twelve and a half years ago. On the bridge.”

“That is totally different. I wasn’t going to leave you there to die. What happened then has no bearing on how things happen now.”

“But it’s who you are. It’s ingrained in you. To put everyone else first and yourself last. And I don’t like it. I don’t want you doing it. I don’t want you running yourself into the ground trying to help me. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere, Me. Or I’ve got to. Because I don’t want you to see you burn yourself out. I don’t want you giving too much and having nothing left. We have seven kids. That need their mum. And they need her to be healthy. So do I.”

“I’m fine,” Esme insists. “It had been a rough night. I was tired. I was hurting. For you. But I AM fine.”

“I want you to stop giving so much of yourself. To everyone except those kids. MY kids. And I want you to focus on you. . Start taking care of yourself more and spend less time taking care of me. You can’t fix me, Esme. No matter how badly you want. This? Me? This is as good as it gets. It’s not going away. It’s not going to get better. So stop trying to repair me.”

“How can I? I WANT you to be better. I don’t want you to struggle like this. I don’t want you to hate yourself. Or your life.”

“I don’t hate my life. Because you’re my life. And so are my kids. How could I hate my life? I hate things that have happened in it, but that sure as hell doesn’t include you or them.”

“I can’t just turn this off, Tyler. I can’t just stop worrying about you.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m asking you to just take it easy. Calm it down. I can’t be fixed. We’ve known that since the beginning of all of this. All we can do is manage it. Or hope to. And going into saviour mode like you do? That’s just going to hurt you. And that’s the last thing I want happening. So can you? Rein it in just a bit? Worry about yourself more?”

“I can try. I can’t promise you anything more than that.”

“Trying is a good start. Now come here…” Curling an arm around her waist, he gathers her into his embrace and then gently pulls her down onto the floor. She immediately snuggles into him; cheek against his chest as she presses herself tightly into his side and drapes a leg over one of his. “....figured you might need this.”

“Something tells me you might need it too. You’d never admit it, but…” 

“Our little secret, okay? No one needs to know I can be like this.”

“I’ve been keeping your secrets for twelve and a half years. I’m not going to stop now.” She presses her lips to the underside of his chin, followed by a series of feathery pecks that follow the line of his jaw.

He shivers when the tip of her nose brushes against the sensitive spot below his ear, then chuckles when her hand slides up the front of his muscle shirt; a finger tracing a slow, smooth circle around his navel before dipping inside. “What are you doing?”

She grins against the side of his neck. Fingertips gliding over his stomach and onto his ribs; blindly tracing the expanse of the tattoo that graces his skin. “Enjoying what’s mine.”

“You really want to get THAT up close and personal? I probably stink.”

“You don’t. You smell like a man. MY man.” 

Her hand continues its exploration; nails dragging along the lines of ribs before travelling upwards and then along his collarbone. Mouth beginning it’s slow and torturous teasing; lips, and tongue following the pattern of the tattoo on the side of his neck, teeth grazing over the scar left behind years from Farhad’s bullet and the subsequent surgery to repair shredded veins and tissue. And he once more shudders against her when her fingers trail down the middle of his chest; wincing slightly when her teeth clamp down on his collarbone, then stiffening when her hand slips down the front of his sweats.

“Seriously,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What ARE you doing?”

Her eyes are sparkling mischievously as she regards him. “Want to have sex?”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You know, normally I’d channel Doctor Klein and talk about how we shouldn’t use sex as a coping mechanism. That it isn’t healthy if it’s the only comfort thing we turn to; if we use it solely as a means to escape bad shit. But…”

“You know, it is possible that we just enjoy having sex. That we USED to employ it as a form of both entertainment AND escape. We haven’t done that in a long time; resort to sex as a means of comfort or to cope with something. Can’t we just LIKE having it? Can’t we just do it because we want to?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with THAT.”

“And you said you were feeling better.” Her fingers toy with the drawstring on his sweats. “So technically, you didn’t turn to sex to cheer yourself up. Or to escape from anything. You used the gym for that.”

“You know, you’re not just a pretty face. You’re definitely the brains of this operation. So now, the more important issue at hand. When do the kids get back?”

“Couple hours. Desi took them to a movie. All seven of them AND Alannah.”

“That man is the fucking GOAT.”

“I usually give you that title, but he’s definitely stepping up. Eight kids? By himself? That is serious balls.”

“Hey, I’m still the GOAT in your life. I take a back seat to no one. Only the true GOAT can make all those kids. Especially ones as good looking as they are.”

“We do make some beautiful babies. And you did show some serious skills knocking me up TWICE with twins. That’s some talent.”

“I’m a man of MANY talents,” he says, and uses a shoulder to push her backwards; a palm finding the back of her head and protecting it from hitting the ground as she stretches out. He straddles her body; a knee on either side of her thighs, both hands now capturing her wrists and bringing her arms above her head. 

“You definitely are. You sure opened my eyes to some new things. Especially those first five days. You definitely put every man who ever came before you to shame. They certainly are nothing like you.”

“Baby, there are no other men like me. Now…” he releases on her wrists and reaches down to push up the bottom of her t-shirt; fingers finding the button on her jeans and snapping it open. “...are you SURE the kids aren’t going to be coming home anytime soon?”

“Desi only left with them forty minutes ago. You have more than enough time. Really you only need twenty minutes…”

He pauses, fingers clasping the zipper on her pants. “Pardon me? When is the last time I only went twenty minutes?”

“Last night. In the shower.”

“Shower sex is the most awkward fucking sex EVER. Especially when your wife is a full foot shorter than you. I did my best, alright?”

“I’m not knocking your sexual skills or prowess. Which are both incredible, just so you know.”

“So we’re NOT going to have seven hellions running in unexpectedly?”

“Not a chance. You’re safe. And if you get to it, you’ll get more than one chance to rock my world. Unless you think you’ve only got one go in you.”

“Is that a challenge? You think that’s all I’m capable of in my old age?”

“I think you’re very capable. Just sometimes, I like you to prove it to me.”

“Well then…” he aggressively yanks her jeans over her hips and down her hips. “...I better get to work.”

******

“How many of the kids do you think were conceived in the gym?”

Esme eyes flicker open and she lifts her head from its resting place on his shoulder. One sits on his chest and the other on the top of his head; fingers combing through the damp, longer strands. “Well, we know for sure Millie and the first set of twins weren’t. She was conceived in Dhaka. TJ and Tanner are Aussies through and through though; made in Sydney. In that little apartment of ours.”

“Declan?”

“Declan I’m pretty sure was the by product of drunken sex. The night you came home loaded after Kyle’s bachelor party and had the goddamn gall to not only WANT sex, but only get yourself off. And to add insult to injury? You passed out on top of me.”

Smirking, he pushes his fingers through her hair. Letting the soft, dark strands slip between his fingers and then grazing his knuckles along the length of her spine; palm settling at the small of her back. “I’m never going to live that down, am I.”

“Not in a million years. Although he could have been conceived that night you convinced me to take the video. The one you said you’d erase YEARS ago. That you STILL have.”

“My favourite homemade porn of all time. I’m never giving that one up. Ever.”

She gives a derisive snort and a roll of the eyes.

“You think you’d be flattered. Other guys are getting off to regular porn; strangers fucking. I’m getting off to me getting you off. Would you rather I be jerking off to random women? Take it as a compliment. And I have a feeling that’s when it happened. Declan. I think my swimmers would have been too drunk the night of Kyle’s bachelor party. They wouldn’t have been able to get shit done. Addie though? She was definitely conceived in the gym back home.”

“There’s no doubt about her. I think Takota and Brookie were too. I think they were made the day you nailed that new PR on the bench press. You were so stoked and riled up about it. You were in fine form that day.”

“I’m not in fine form EVERY day? Are you saying some days I suck?”

“Aside from drunk, sloppy sex night? I have never...EVER...had a bad experience with you. You’re always at your best. But sometimes…” she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...you’re EXTRA amazing.”

“You are so fucking lucky. You went from guys never getting you off to a guy that doesn’t stop until he does. More than once.”

“You are determined. But you have the magic touch. Remember that first time? In Dhaka?”

“When you cried after I made you cum the first time?”

“I didn’t cry. Well, I DID. But I wasn’t crying because I was sad or upset. I was...I don’t know...embarrassed.”

“Why the hell would you be embarrassed? It’s not your fault all the guys before me couldn't get the job done. It’s what happens when you settle for fucking losers.”

“ I wasn’t used to it. It happened. And it was way more powerful and amazing than I ever expected. It’s one to get yourself off, but to have a guy do it for you? And do it THAT well? I was embarrassed. How I reacted.”

“You mean the whole screaming my name over and over and clawing the shit out of my back and yanking my hair out?”

“What can I say? It was a job well done. And you love it; the pain.”

“Much better the pain I was used to, that’s for sure. You were beautiful though. Your hair was all wild and crazy and your cheeks were bright red and you were drenched in sweat. And the way you looked at me? Those eyes? You were so fucking beautiful. You still are. It’s awesome; watching you come.”

“You are very strange,” she says, and pecks his lips. “You have very weird kinks.”

“It’s a turn on; seeing and hearing what you to do someone. And it’s good for the ego. Lets you know you’re not some two pump chump that can get his girl off. That alone should have been grounds for divorce. You should have left that drongo the second you discovered he couldn’t get you off.”

“What do they say? Hindsight is twenty twenty? Although failure to get someone off isn’t exactly a red flag. You CAN teach someone.”

“Something tells me he was beyond teaching. That guy was a fucking asshole. Can you honestly look back and tell me there were more good times than bad with him?”

“No,” she admits. “I can’t. Because when it was good, it was mediocre. When it was bad, it was horrifically bad. Do we have to talk about him? He doesn’t really make good pillow talk.”

“You’re right,” he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her in for a kiss. “I’m sorry. What about me? The ratio of good times to bad times?”

“Ninety percent to ten. We’ve struggled. There’s no denying that. But even at your worst? When you went back to the booze and the drugs and you separated? You weren’t THAT bad. Things were awkward when you’d come to the house, but we stayed civil with one another. We put our shit aside for the kids. No matter how bad we were hurting ourselves. And I was hurting pretty fucking bad.”

“So was I. Of all the things I COULD go back and change? That would be it. I’d get my shit together a lot sooner than I did. I wouldn’t have taken so long straightening myself out. I wouldn’t have taken so long to get clean and sober and fight for my family. And I’m sorry. That I made you think you weren’t worth it. Because you were. You always have been.”

“It was a really bad time.” Esme skims her nails along his collarbone and over his Adam’s apple and along the underside of his chin; the latter she holds between her thumb and forefinger as she kisses him. “We were both lost. We were sad and we were hurt and we were angry and neither of us knew how to fix it. You weren’t the only to blame. I think we put way too much pressure on ourselves AND each other. Things happened so quickly. Between us. We moved in together when we barely knew one another. We were getting married and having a baby within six months. And then the boys came along a lot sooner than either of us were ready to have another kid. I think it overwhelmed us. Especially when we went to Colorado. It was a lot to deal with; giving up the place where we were happy and going somewhere we both didn’t really want to be.”

“I’ve certainly fucked up a time or two. And I’m not proud of any of those times. Trust me. I know I wasn’t the best husband or father. And I definitely wasn’t the best man or friend for you. And I’m sorry. That it took me so long to realize it and get my shit together.”

“Water under the bridge,” Esme says, and places a kiss to each corner of his mouth. “Look how far we’ve come since then. Look how hard we’ve worked. We are so much better and so much stronger. You can’t deny that. We’ve BOTH come a long way. And I’m proud of us.”

“Me too. And I gotta admit, Me. I was fucking terrified. During those six months. That I’d screwed things up so bad you wouldn’t even take me back. That you’d meet someone better and move on and…”

“That was NEVER going to happen. I didn’t want anyone else, Tyler. I wanted YOU. But I also wanted you to be healthy. I didn’t kick you out to hurt you. I did it because I deserved better. And so did our kids. Because when you’re clean and sober? You’re a ten plus. As a spouse and a parent. You’re way better than I am. But when you’re NOT on the straight and narrow…”

“I’m a fucking disaster.”

“You are the most amazing man I have ever known. When you’re YOU...like this…the Tyler I KNOW...you are nothing short of incredible. You’re patient and you’re kind and you’re gentle and you’re loving and you’re so much more than I deserve. But when things go to shit? They REALLY go to shit. And fast.”

“Well we won’t have to worry about that happening ever again. I think I’m finally who I want to be. Or at least I’m on my way to it. I think I’m finally who you need. AND deserve. Or at least I’m trying.”

Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his face towards her. “You are phenomenal, Tyler Rake. In so many ways. Don’t you ever doubt that. And don’t you ever doubt how much I need you. Or love you. I know you always say I could do this alone; raise the kids and give them a good life and make sure they’re happy and healthy. And maybe I could. Maybe I am strong enough. But you know what? I don’t WANT to do it alone. I want to do it with you. I want us to see our kids go off to college and get married and have families of their own. I want to spend our senior years travelling and seeing the world and having to resort to yelling at each other because neither of us will wear a hearing aid.”

He chuckles at that.

“You are stuck with me, buddy. When I said ‘I do’, I meant ‘I take this stubborn but beautiful asshole to be mine until the bitter end’. And by the end, I mean when you’re extremely old and extremely gray and you’re warm in your bed. No sooner than that. And besides, you signed on the dotted line. So you can’t get rid of me. No matter how hard you try.”

“Lucky for you, my days of trying to scare you off are behind me. And there’s nothing you could possibly do to scare me, so…” pushing his fingers through her hair, he presses a kiss to her brow. . “...it’s you and me to the end, babe. And hopefully that’s a long way away.”

“It will be,” she confidently declares. “We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. And I’m looking forward to them. To seeing how much we grow and how much stronger we get.”

“We can get any stronger, we might be invincible.”

“We make a good team. We always have. There’s nothing and no one that could come between us. If we can survive what happened five years ago, we can survive ANYTHING.”

“I believe that.” Laying a hand on the side of her face, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then pulls her even tighter against him, palm flat against the small of her back. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” She pushes her fingers through his, then moves their joined hands from the side of her face to his stomach. “That first Christmas in Telluride. We’d only been in the house for a few weeks. We were still working on the most important renos.”

“Millie was just ten months. You had about six weeks left with the boys. Or would have, had they decided to stay put until their due date.”

“I remember you not coming to bed one night. You said you weren’t tired and that you had some things you were going to work on. You didn’t want to wait until the light of day. I just chalked it up to your insomnia or thought maybe you were just in too much pain to get comfortable. You were still trying to heal; from Dhaka. You weren’t back to a hundred percent yet.”

“Was I EVER a hundred percent?”

“You weren’t back to where YOU were. When we met. I knew you were struggling; sleep issues and pain and just stress from trying to get used to living in a whole different country. Especially somewhere colder than Jack Frost’s nut sack. Poor little Aussie; could never get warm no matter how many layers you put on.”

“Took me a while. To get climatized. I did pretty good. By the end of the five years I wasn’t as wimpy in the cold anymore.”

“I remember you can and woke me up. It was like one in the morning. I nearly had a heart attack; I thought there was something wrong with Millie. And you told me that you had something to show me. Downstairs. Do you remember that?”

“I do. Very well.”

“And I was bitching and moaning my whole time down the stairs and you were so sweet and patient with me. It didn’t even ruffle your feathers how bitchy I was being. And you took me in the living room and it was the most amazing thing ever. The entire room FILLED with Christmas lights. Around the door frames and the windows and across the fireplace mantel. So many lights. I’d never seen so many.” Tears fill her eyes at the memory. “It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. And it was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for me. In my entire life.”

“Hey,” he moves his hand from the small of her back and places it on the back of her head; gently tucking her hair and forcing her to look up at her. “Don’t cry, babe. Why are you crying?”

“Because it was incredible. It was beautiful and it was so genuine. I had only told you once; about how much I loved Christmas lights. That it was all I really cared about. That I didn’t give a shit about presents or if we had a lot of money. I just wanted lots of lights. I said it one time. That’s it. And you remembered that. Somehow.”

“I remember a lot of things you tell me. More than you realize. I didn’t have a lot to give you, Me. When we met? I had nothing to offer you. And you STILL wanted me. Even if I couldn’t give the life you deserved. Christmas lights? I could do Christmas lights. Had I been able to, I would have done EVERY inch of that house; inside and out. Just so I could see you smile. And I remember THAT too. The way you smiled at me. Like you’re doing right now. Tears in your eyes and everything.”

“You always say you’re not romantic. But you are. In your own way. In the most PERFECT way. And I didn’t care what you had or didn’t have. I just wanted you. That’s it. Even now? I would give up everything we have and I’d still be happy. Because I’d have you. And our kids. That’s all that matters.”

“We’ve done pretty good. We started at the bottom and look where we’re at now. Not too shabby, huh?”

“Not too shabby at all,” she agrees, and leans in to kiss him. Groaning against his lips when the doorbell chimes throughout the house, then sighing and resting her forehead against his. “I know that isn’t the kids. I gave Millie my key. And there’s still at least half an hour of the movie left.”

“Did you order something? Last minute? Wouldn’t surprise me if you forgot you did.”

“No. I was very meticulous about tracking everything this year. So unless someone else sent something, it’s not my doing. Do you think you could get it? You have pants on at least. I can’t go to the door in just your t-shirt. And it’ll take me a few minutes to track down my underwear. Someone was a little impatient and just ripped them off and threw them.”

He grimaces as he moves onto his knees. “If you manage to track them down, I can’t promise that they’re in one piece.”

“Wouldn’t be the first pair you ruined with those big, strong mitts of yours. Won’t be the last.” She turns her face up for a final kiss. “By the way, that second time? You were pretty intense. That whole pulling my hair and biting my shoulders? You were pretty aggressive. I like.”

“Remember what I told you? In that meme I sent you? About you being a bottle of ketchup? About hitting ya from the back and making you squirt?”

She laughs, then begins the search for her clothes. “You send me the weirdest shit when you’re away, I swear. But you haven’t sent me a video lately. You know, a video of you taking care of things.”

“And you call me dirty?”

“It’s sexy! Seeing you do that and watching your face and hearing you moan and shit? Baby, you are the gift that keeps on giving.”

“You have the nerve to call me disturbing,” he chides, as he locates her jeans and tosses them in her direction.

*****

The doorbell is on its third round of chiming when he finally makes it to the front hallway, cursing at not only the stiffness in the small of his back and the numbness in his hip, but the lack of a window or peephole in the door. It would make it so much easier; being able to spy who is on your porch and decide whether or not you want to bother with them. He could have taken the time to check the security cameras in the office; making sure it wasn’t unwanted company or even a threat lingering on his doorstep. The latter is highly unlikely. Anyone wanted a piece of you wouldn’t bother with the ringing the bell; they’d kick the door or break the front window to gain access. He’s considered those possibilities. And THEN some. Always entertaining the possibility that someone holding a grudge could find him. If the last five years taught him anything, he’ll never be one hundred percent safe. He’s stepped on a lot of toes; made a lot of enemies of very rich and powerful people.

And he’s almost wishing it WAS someone out to get him when he does finally open the door. Part of him preferring the thought of staring down the barrel of the gun instead of the sight that greets him: his in-laws parked on his front porch.

“What the…?”

“Long time no see,” Sarge cheerfully greets, as if no time has passed since their paths last crossed. It’s been at least seven years; Esme’s mom filing for divorce and one of the only two who actually welcomed Tyler into the family completely dropping off the radar. Proceedings were called off their second year back in Australia; the mother in law’s cancer remission causing her to re-evaluate her life and the people in it. Apparently her only daughter hadn’t made the list.

“Did we come at a bad time?” The Witch of the Midwest inquires, disgusting written all over her face as she slowly eyes him from head to toe.

“You could say that. We’re kinda in the middle of something.”

“Do you always answer the door half naked?”

“Do you always show up unannounced?” Tyler counters. “From thousands of miles away?”

“I told you we should have called, Michelle,” Sarge admonishes. “It’s never polite to just show up out of the blue.”

“What would have calling done? I’ve been calling my daughter for nearly a week straight. She doesn’t answer, she doesn’t return my voicemails or my text messages. If she had…”

“What are you two doing here?” Tyler interjects. “Why aren’t you in Colorado? Don’t you usually have a big thing every Christmas? That’s what I remember at least.”

“You can actually remember that? I’m surprised you can remember what you did ten minutes, never mind years ago. Booze does that you know. So do pain meds. They mess up the brain.”

He ignores the cheap shot, and instead turns to the father in law for explanation. And he knows it’s written all over his face; pure annoyance and simmering anger.

“Everyone else has their own plans this year," Sarge informs him. "Other people to visit. We were going to just do something by ourselves. Which I was personally okay with. Sometimes you need a quiet holiday. But then this idea got into her head and…”

“Could we at least come in?” Michelle interrupts. “It is a tad chilly out. That wind is biting!”

“Tyler?” Esme calls as she pads through the house. “Who was it? DID someone send something? I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget ordering something last minute. And you were right. About my underwear. Only they’re not just ripped. They’re shredded. So you owe me a pair of…” her words trail off, eyes widening in a mix of shock and horror as she catches sight of their uninvited guests. “Mom! Sarge! What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“There’s my girl!’ Sarge beams and steps into the house, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Been so long! Way too long!”

Forcing a tight lipped smile, Tyler steps back from the entrance and motions for his mother in law to step inside. Sighing heavily and briefly closing his eyes in a vain attempt to calm himself before shutting the door. “What are they doing here?” he mouths at his wife.

She gives a nervous smile and a shrug. 

“Look at you!” Sarge holds his step daughter out arm’s length. “You look beautiful! Motherhood suits you! And your hair! I like it.”

“Oh please, Richard,” Michelle gives a derisive snort and motions for him to get out of her way. “She’s never been able to pull off short hair. And especially not NOW. After seven kids? Look how chubby her face is. That kind of face can NOT pull off short hair. At all.”

“She looks beautiful,” Tyler speaks up. “She always does. Wouldn’t matter if she had no hair.”

The mother in law ignores him, electing instead to pull her daughter into a hug. 

Esme resists at first; arms hanging loosely by her sides, a grimace on her face, and tears welling in her eyes. Tyler knows that expression and those kinds of tears very well; years of hurt and torment that have been eating away at her, now threatening to come to the surface and find their way out. And he doesn’t know how to react; able to do little more than stand by helplessly and give a shrug and a small, sad smile.

“Good to see you mom,” she finally says, even though her awkward one armed embrace and the stiffness to her body give evidence of otherwise. “It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has. If you’d only swallowed you pride and called me back years ago…”

“So what ARE you doing here?” Tyler inquires, and he gathers Esme under his arm when she quickly flees her mother’s presence in favour of his. Wrapping her in a tight embrace; hand protectively grasping her hip and his lips finding her temple. “We weren’t exactly expecting company.”

“We thought we’d come down. Spent Christmas in the big city,” Michelle explains. “This is quite the place isn’t it…” her hands are on her hips as she surveys the high cove ceilings and the open concept space; living room, dining area, and kitchen all seamlessly connected. “...when I heard you were moving to New York, I certainly wasn’t expecting this. It’s a little...much...don’t you think? A little...unlike both of you?”

“We like it,” Esme says. “We renovated and added on and made it exactly how we wanted it.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful,” Sarge speaks up. “Well done. Both of you. It’s a great place.”

“Where’s the kids?” Michelle inquires. “Awful quiet. Must not be home.”

“They’re out,” her daughter explains. “With a friend. He’s a good guy. Desi. He took them overnight and to breakfast and a movie today. He used to play football for the University of Alabama.”

“Roll Tide,” Sarge gives a thumbs up. “They’ve got quite the legacy. It’ll be nice to meet him. Talk some ball. I promise I won’t tell him I’m an Arizona State fan myself. Wouldn’t want to ruffle feathers.”

Michelle’s eyes narrow. “You left your children with a MAN? Overnight?”

“He’s a good guy,” Tyler informs her. “A damn good guy. I trust him. With their lives.”

“And he’s harmless,” Esme adds. “He’s not a pedo or anything. Just because he’s gay…”

Her mother stares pointedly at her. “You left your children with a gay man?”

“It’s Desi, mom. He’s my best friend. Outside of my husband. The kids are fine. And what ARE you guys doing here? This is not a good time.”

“It’s Christmas,” Michelle reminds her. “How is that NOT a good time?”

“Because we have our things. That we do. Our traditions. The kids are used to it being us. And Desi.”

“I’m sure the kids will be ecstatic to see grandma and grandpa.”

“They don’t even know you,” Tyler points out. “Maybe Millie and the boys will remember you. Declan won’t. And you haven’t met the others, so…”

“And whose fault is that? Who took my grandchildren and my daughter away? Who decided to pack them up and take them all the way to Australia?”

“We are NOT doing this,” Esme says. “You are not showing up on our doorstep and causing problems with Tyler. This is OUR house. As in me and my husband. You WILL respect him. And I don’t care if it kills you to do it.”

“No one is here to cause issues,” Sarge assures her. “We just wanted to see you. All of you. Spend some time together.”

“You should have called. I would have answered if it was you.”

“And this is how she treats the woman who gave her life?” Michelle huffs. “Figures. She always was ungrateful when it came to everything I did for her.”

“We have plans,” Esme informs her. “We’re going to see Ovi on the twenty-sixth. And I refuse to bring two extra guests on such short notice.”

“We can stay at the hotel,” Sarge says. “It’ll give us a chance to see the city. Do some touristy stuff. “

“And he gets married on New Years Eve,” she adds. “I can’t just bring you two to that.”

“We’ll be long gone and out of your hair by then,” her mother promises. “We’re only staying for a few days. We’re leaving on the twenty-eighth. We’ll stay long enough to say hello to Riley and then leave.”

Tyler smirks. “Oh I’m sure she’ll love that.”

“Don’t make this any more awkward than it has to be,” Michelle implores and lays her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “This could have all been avoided and you know that, honey. But, things always have to be your way or the highway, don’t they. Always so dramatic. Always acting like some hurt little girl when you've had nothing but a great life. I'll never understand you. Why you are the way you are. Especially towards me. I've never done anything to warrant that. It just shows you, some women can be very immature DESPITE becoming mothers."

“You know what…” Tyler begins, and Esme grabs hold of the hand sitting on her hip; squeezing tightly in an effort to both calm him and let him know she’s coping. 

“Now…” her mother lightly taps her palms against her cheeks. “...let’s go have some tea. And catch up. I’m sure there’s lots we have to talk about.”


	20. Control

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

They converse in harsh whispers as they seek refuge in the pantry. Using the excuse of wanting to prepare food and drink for their unwanted and unwelcome guests and then leaving them in the living room. They’ve been bickering back and forth for half an hour; arguing about the Sarge’s appreciation and approval of chosen furniture and decor and Michelle’s distaste of the ‘mix mash’ of colours and themes on the Christmas tree. Her voice is enough to drive Tyler over the edge. The way it picks up in both pitch and volume when she’s vehemently defending even the most pointless or ridiculous of things, the Midwestern twang that becomes stronger and more noticeable the more annoyed she becomes, the constant tinge of self righteousness and condescension. She’s the classic narcissistic; infamous for her staggering gift of gaslighting and her ability to make herself seem like the victim despite being the quintessential bully and walking definition of ‘mommy dearest’. Through the five years they’d spent in Colorado, he’d tried his best to ‘mend fences’; extending the olive branch a handful of times in hopes of helping to both repair the relationship between mother and daughter, and create a bond between Michelle and her grandchildren. 

They HAD reached a somewhat peaceful agreement; she’d attempt to tone down her hatred towards him and at least try and treat her daughter like a fully functioning adult instead of a hopeless, hapless child. But it had lasted all of three weeks; his involvement with Michael McMann and the subsequent threats against his family only caused the woman’s spite and hatred for him to grow. After that, she’d vowed to never forgive him for putting her daughter and grandkids in danger, and double downed on her belief that he ‘stole’ Esme away and somehow bullied and intimidated her into not only marrying him and giving him children, but returning to Australia. She refused to accept any responsibility for either her daughter’s struggles with mental illness or her horrible self esteem, and placed the blame solely on Esme’s shoulders; calling her weak and pathetic and insisting that she had married a horrifically abusive man and was simply too scared to leave him. He WAS a mercenary after all; he brutalized and killed people for a living. He was an alcoholic and drug addict; his brain unstable and volatile. His involvement in the job immediately made him a threat; he was strong and big and capable of tremendous and painful bloodshed. What would stop him from inflicting damage -or even death- on her? 

“How the hell would I know? I’m just as shocked as you are. Not to mention totally embarrassed. My mother and step father know what we were up to; before you answered the door. I didn’t have any pants on! Just your shirt! They heard me talking about how you destroyed my underwear! Not to mention you’re not wearing a shirt and your back and ribs are clawed to shit and you’ve got the whole ‘just got fucked’ messy hair going on. Do you know humiliating this is?”

“I’m pretty sure they know we have sex. We have seven kids. I don’t think they’re going to be surprised that we fuck. For fun. Not just for procreating.”

“It’s one thing for them to know we have it, but it’s another thing for them to know we JUST had it. How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face around them? When they know I just got done getting railed?”

“Imagine if they knew you got railed TWICE. And besides, us fucking? Them knowing it? That’s the least of our problems. Your mother...who I fucking hate more than I have ever hated anyone OTHER than my old man...just showed up on our goddamn doorstep. And she’s planning on staying.”

“Well, Sarge did say they’re staying at a hotel.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it. But you know what? They’re damn lucky they DID get one. Because there was no way in hell I’d let them stay here. I’d pay for the hotel myself. What the hell, Esme? Why are they here? Did you know they were going to do this?”

“I never would have invited them here. And even if they HAD mentioned they were coming, I would have told you. I don’t want them here anymore than you do. I’m not the one blame for this.”

“I told you to call her back. Or text her. When it became clear that she wasn’t satisfied with your ‘thank you’ email and started messaging you and calling you, THAT was your chance. You should have got some fucking balls about you and talked to her. Did I not tell you? To get in contact with her? To avoid her escalating? Did I NOT say that?”

“You did,” she admits. “You DID say that. And I should have listened to you. I WAS going to call her.”

“After Christmas. When we got home. You should have done it days ago; when she started calling at all hours of the goddamn day. Did you really think she’d stop? That she WOULDN’T escalate? You know her. You know how fucked up she is. What did you think was going to happen when you kept avoiding her?”

“Not this!” She wildly gestures with both arms in the direction of the living room. “I didn’t know she’d just show up! There’s no way I could have known that. She always has a big thing at Christmas. It’s her chance to look perfect and come across as the most amazing mother and hostess ever. I didn’t think she’d ever give up the opportunity to do THAT. And why are you mad at me? This isn’t my fault!”

“You know what? It is. Because I told you to call her. So she’d stop her shit and leave us alone. And now look! She’s sitting in our fucking living room. On Christmas Eve. And how the hell did she even know our address? How did she know where we live? You can’t look it up on the internet; I made sure of that. So some asshole wanting a piece of me wouldn’t come after my family.”

“I don’t know how she found out. Someone must have given it to her.”

“Who would know? Riley? Riley would tell her to go fuck herself.”

“Maybe Riley told her dad and he let it slip somehow. I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t know HOW she found out. And yeah, maybe I should have grown a set and talked to her. My bad. But you being pissed at me is NOT helping. We need to be in this together. Not fighting and tearing each other apart.”

“I’m about five minutes away from totally losing my shit. You know what the last two days have been like. How I’ve been struggling. And now she’s here? If she ever wanted to give me a psychotic break, this would be her perfect chance. Just watch the son in law completely snap; prove to everyone just how big of a fuck up he really is.”

“You are NOT a fuck up. You never have been! And I know you’re struggling. I’m the one going through it WITH you. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I want her here? That is the last thing I want! But she IS here. And there’s nothing we can do about it other than suck it up and get through this together! And you snapping on me is NOT helping! I’m not the enemy, Tyler!”

“I never said you were. I’m just saying that…” 

His words trail off as his attempts at damage control are ignored. Her petite frame intentionally bumping into him as she steps away; frowning when he tries to grab hold of her wrist and she aggressively yanks her hand away. He chooses 'peace keeping' in favour of escalation; giving them both of a chance to cool down. And he leans against the back of the pantry door, arms crossed over his chest as he watches her furtive search for something to feed their surprise visitors. The shelves are packed; extremely well stocked and organized. And while they bear a wide assortment of goods, she hastily rummages through things as if there’s nothing suitable; tears welling in her eyes and her entire body tense and her hands shaking. And suddenly he no longer sees a grown woman in front of him; the love of his life, his spouse, the mother of his children. She’s been replaced by a desperate and broken little girl so hell bent on trying to impress her mother; driving herself to the brink of panic and anxiety trying to prove herself worthy to a woman that would rather she’d never been born. And it’s far more painful than any of his own issues; an ache that claws at his heart and forms a deep, empty pit in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry." Stepping behind her, he lays his hands on her shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I KNOW you’re not the enemy. And I sure as hell don’t ever want you to feel like I see you that way.”

“I know you’re going through a hard time and I know her being here is going to put you even more on edge. But I also know what will happen if we even attempt to kick them out.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t kick them out. It’s not like I’d say ‘get the fuck out and never come back’. I’d be a little more...tactful.”

“You think THIS is her escalating? Do you know what will happen if we even try to explain our way through things? Why it’s not a good time for her to be here? Do you really want to get into that with her? Considering all the things she’s already said about you? How she feels about you?”

“I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. Or how she feels about me. I don’t…”

“But I do!” She slams a jar down with even force to shake the other items on the metal shelf. Both her body and her voice tremble, and her chin and her lower lip quiver as she tries to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “I care what she says about you! I’ve always cared! Because it hurts! You’re my husband and the father of my children and you deserve so much better than that. And it fucking hurts when she says that shit about you!”

“Alright...easy now." Running his palms along her upper arms, he leans down to press a kiss to her temple; lips against the side of her head as both forearms come to rest along her collarbone. “Just breathe, Esme..." he draws her against him, squeezing as tight as her little body will allow. “...it’s okay…”

“I care what she says because I love you. Because I know what kind of man you are. Because I know what kind of heart you have and how much you love me and our kids. Because you’ve almost died for me. TWICE. Because she doesn’t know you like I do and she won't even give you a chance. And THAT hurts. To hear those kinds of things about the person you love more than you love yourself. Who SAVED you.”

“I never saved…”

“You did!” she interjects. “You saved me in every way a person can be saved. And you’ve been willing to die for me. Right from the start. And all she can do is hate you and talk shit about you and you have no idea what it does to me. What it does to my heart.”

“I’m sorry…” his lips brush her cheek, then settle against her ear. “...I never thought of it that way. I never thought about it hurting you like that.”

“I hate that she won’t even give you a chance. I hate that she looks at you like you’re some kind of horrible, evil person. That she treats our kids like garbage. I don’t care what she says about me. Or how she treats me. But when she does that to you? Or our kids? That shit kills me inside.”

“You’ve got to let it just roll off you, Me. Stop letting her have this power over you. Stop giving her that kind of control. It’s what she wants. It’s probably why she’s here. See how far she can push you. Try to break you. And I know you usually tell me not to react and keep the peace, but I don’t think I can. I won’t let her disrespect you. I don’t let ANYONE do that. So I can’t promise you that I won’t snap on her. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

She closes her eyes as she leans her head back against his chest; tips of her fingertips repeatedly gliding along his forearms. “I’m at the point where I honestly wish you would. I mean, maybe not go BATSHIT on her. I don’t want her calling the cops or child protective services. But I would seriously enjoy you going off on her within reason.”

“Baby, I will protect you from anyone or anything. I will stand up for you no matter what. You want me to flip my shit on her? I’ll do it. Want me to toss her ass out into the street? I’ll do that too. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. And I AM sorry,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, followed by her cheek and then her temple. “I didn’t mean to snap on you. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m an asshole.”

“You can be,” she admits, and he loosens his hold on her when she turns around to face him. Hands falling to her hips and then sliding around to the small of her back, fingers laced together. “But it’s rare. That you’re like that with me. And I know you’re on edge. I know you’re going through some real bullshit. And believe me, I would give anything to take that away. To make everything better for you.”

“I know you would,” he presses his lips to her forehead. “And I’m serious; I’d do anything to protect you. Against anyone or anything.”

“I know. I’ve always known you would. Right from day one. Even then you were pretty intense. When it came to the whole watching over me thing.”

“Well technically it WAS my job.”

“You were getting some good benefits on that job.”

“They were pretty damn stellar, I gotta admit. Who needs dental or prescriptions covered? I’ll take the five days of hot sex.”

“You were very well compensated for your hard work. Actually, I think you were pretty spoiled. I think you STILL are.”

“I am not going to deny that.”

“I’m sorry too. I SHOULD have got a hold of her. I shouldn’t have waited. This is just a huge mess. But I honestly didn’t think she’d do something like this. I know she’s crazy, but THIS crazy? What are we going to do? We have our things that we do. With the kids. We have our own traditions for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We can’t just forget about it all. It’s what they’re used to. It makes them happy. And to be honest? It makes ME happy.”

“And we’ll keep everything the same. I’m letting her fuck things up. For the kids or you. We’ll just go on with it. Do what we’re used to. If she doesn’t like it, fuck her.”

“You just know the kids aren’t going to be happy. The boys and Millie are old enough to remember how awful she was to them. Millie still talks about the time grandma said she was a mistake because mommy and daddy weren’t married when she was made. And Tanner? Tanner had nightmares for three years about you going to hell because you got me pregnant out of wedlock.”

“Well in all honesty, I was probably already going there because of other things.”

She stares up at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Not a very well timed one, but…”

“And what if she gets on Nugget about being antisocial? About needing sensory breaks? About needing his safe place and his safe person? I can guarantee she doesn’t give a shit about Autism and won’t bother learning about it. I bet she’s even in denial about. That she’ll say something like ‘there’s nothing wrong with him other than your parenting.’.”

“She says something like that? I WILL toss her ass out onto the street. Literally. Talk shit about my kid AND my wife? That’s not happening in my house.”

“Then we have Declan. A bull in a china shop. You know she’ll get on his ass about being too loud and too hyper and too active.”

“He’s a kid. He’s eight. And he’s got red hair. Of course he’s wild.”

“What about Brooklyn? She looks cute, but she is all daddy and she’s a savage. She will pick up on my mother’s bad vibes and she’ll open her mouth and all hell will break loose.”

“Babe…” he unlocks his fingers and moves his hands to her hips; squeezing tightly and softly massaging. “...you are working yourself up even more and that’s the last thing either of us need right now. Take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

“And then there’s Takota. Who is crazy shy and super sensitive and I already know he’ll hate her.”

“He’s in good company then. We ALL hate her.”

“You get her and all seven of them together? It’s a recipe for disaster. Especially the Tanner thing. Because TJ will go the fuck off if she even steps out of line with Tanner.”

“So what do you want me to do? Sneak the kids out of the house and replace them with imposters? Get the real ones back once your mom leaves?”

She sighs in exasperation. “You are NOT helping.”

“I think you need to calm down and just let shit take its course. Whatever happens, happens. We can’t predict what’s going to go down and stop it before it does. And you know what else we can’t do? Stay in here for the rest of the day. We went to look for food to make. We’ve been in here for half an hour. She probably thinks we’re in here having sex.”

“We SHOULD have sex. Really piss her off.”

“While I’d normally be right into it, I don’t think even I can get it up under these kinds of conditions. Your mother is kind of a mood killer. Remember how we barely had sex when we lived at her place? And then totally made up for it when we moved into the farmhouse?”

“I always thought you were saying no for other reasons. You always told me you were worried about ‘hurting the baby’.”

“You actually believed that?”

“You were very convincing. I thought maybe you were just super paranoid that something would happen to Millie. And that you suddenly got over it. You should have just told me.”

“The whole ‘honey, your mother’s voice makes me impotent’ wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. So while I love you and I’d love to be able to bang the shit out of you right now and have you making the kinds of noises I know you’re capable of, it’s not going to happen. We need to get our shit together and deal with this.”

“You know what I was thinking? Never mind getting the kids out of the house. WE can sneak out.”

“And leave the kids with your mother? I know I hate her, but I love my kids and I would not do that to them. Now…” placing his hands on her cheeks, he gently turns his face up towards him. . “...we need to get out there before she comes and breaks the door down. You gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“I got you, Me. I always do. We’ll get through this like we do with everything else,” he presses a kiss to her brow, then to her lips. “Together.”

*****

They make awkward small talk; brief snippets of conversation in between sips coffee and tea and nibbles of the assortment of finger foods Esme had prepared and laid out on the coffee table. There’s a lot that SHOULD be said; grievances waiting to be aired, hurt feelings dying to be brought to the surface, demands for both forgiveness and apology. But for the time being it’s nothing more than comments on the weather; the differences between the dry Colorado chill and the dampness that plagues the Eastern Seaboard. Five years have passed and no attempts have been made to heal both old and fresh wounds; Esme’s mother either in denial of her shortcomings and her responsibility in pushing her daughter out of her life, or simply refusing to accept blame or apologize for all the damage she’d caused over the years. For the most part she stays silent. Leaving it up to her husband to ask about the kids and life in Australia while she ignores the conversation entirely; spending her time glancing around at their belongings with a look of pure disdain. He even sees the way her entire body stiffens whenever he so as much shows Esme even the slightest bit of attention or affection; eyes narrowing and lips tightly pursing together if he gives her a reassuring smile or wraps an arm around her shoulders or presses a kiss to the side of her head. He knows the mother in law can’t stand it; any form of physical interaction between them or the way they’re so in tune with each other’s body language and facial expressions. Able to easily and effortlessly read each other’s awkwardness or nervousness and then doing their best to provide comfort and support. 

He’s been hated since the very beginning. Viewed as the enemy who’d ‘stolen’ Esme from her family and somehow convinced her to give up her old life in favour of a new one with him; keeping her trapped by repeatedly getting her pregnant and intimidating and terrorizing her into staying with him. And while they HAVE had their issues and stumbling blocks, he’s never been THAT bad; refusing to follow in his father’s legacy as a domestic abuser and all around asshole. Even at his worst he’s always adored her; respecting her as the love of his life and the mother of his children. Any logical and rational parent would want that for their kid; someone who worships them and busts their ass to provide for them, who has proven time and time again that they’d willingly sacrifice their own life for theirs. But it’s never been enough. All the good going ignored yet all the bad being thrown in his face and used against him. And while he’s the first to admit he’s not perfect, he also knows that he’s not the monster even his own brain often makes him out to be.

“Do you still do what you do?” The mother in law addresses him, refusing to make even the smallest amount of eye contact. 

“Not as much anymore. Now I have employees I send to kill people.”

Beside him, Esme clears her throat noisily and then reaches for a mug of tea that sits on edge of the coffee table. She’s been on edge since the moment she’d finally sat down beside him; nervously bouncing her leg up and down or swinging it from side, or chewing on her bottom lip or thumbnail. He’s done his best to step up and be her rock; tucking her into his side or taking her hand or running a palm over her hair. Little things that let her know that she’s safe. That he’s more than ready, willing, and able to protect her. And it gives him something else to concentrate on other than his own issues; caring for her forcing the dark and dire thoughts plaguing his brain to take a back seat. 

Michelle tucks her chin into her chest and stares at him pointedly. “YOU have employees?”

“I own my own business,” he says, then wraps an arm around Esme’s shoulders and gives her arm a squeeze. “WE own our own business. We have for almost six years now.”

“A mercenary business?”

He nods. “A successful one too. Very successful, actually.”

“Tyler’s good at what he does,” Esme says, as she lays a hand on his knee and lightly squeezes; the smile she gives him one of love and pride. “VERY good at what he does. He already had quite the reputation before starting his own company. Now that he has? He’s extremely well known and extremely well respected and sought after. His guys are the best of the best. Second to no one. You won’t find people like that anywhere else.”

Her mother stares at her; a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “And you’re perfectly fine with that? Him having THAT kind of business? Making money by killing people? Or having others do it for him?”

“There’s more to it than that, Michelle,” he husband grumbles. “Way more to it.”

“That’s not all it entails,” Esme informs her. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about helping people. It’s about protecting them and defending them. It’s about doing what’s right. Just because you don’t understand it…”

“You’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand it now and I didn’t understand it twelve and a half years ago when you willingly ran off with a man that kills people for a living. That has so much blood and God knows what else on his hands.”

“That’s not all he did, mom. He didn’t just kill people. He’s saved a lot more than he’s hurt, believe me. But you can’t seem to grasp that because you’re too busy hating him for stupid reasons. I didn’t care that he was a mercenary. I was just as much as involved as he was. So stop making him out to be some kind of monster because you have some bullshit vendetta against him. Stop…”

“Let’s just try and calm down, okay?” Tyler suggests, his hand on the top of her arm as he pulls her into him; lips pressing against her temple, then her ear. “Just breathe, babe. No need to get worked up.”

“It’s typical of her, isn’t it,” Michelle snorts. “She’s always been over dramatic. Always blowing things way out proportion. How you’ve managed to put up with her for this long, I’ll never know. I’ll give you credit for THAT; being strong enough to hang in there. Mark sure wasn’t.”

“Don’t,” Esme warns. “Don’t you dare bring him up. Don’t you come into my house and sit here across from my husband and bring that piece of shit up.”

“He was a good man, Esme. You just couldn’t see that. You were too busy finding faults. It’s what you do. You get bored of people easily. Which is why it's extra shocking that you’ve made it this far. Twelve and a half years, seven children. Normally you would have pushed him away by now. I don’t understand the appeal, but you seem to. I guess whatever works for you…”

“You know what, it DOES work. WE work. And I know you hate that. I know you hate that I’m happy. That I got away. That I found someone that loves me. Someone that won’t let you control me and manipulate me and abuse me. That’s what it is, isn’t it. That’s why you don’t like Tyler. He doesn’t let you get away with your shit.”

Laying a hand on the side of her head, Tyler draws her even tighter into him, lips against her hair as he speaks. “I think you need to calm down, Me. Just try and relax, okay?”

“You really ARE brainwashed,” Michelle says. “You will defend him no matter what he does. No matter how much he drinks or how many pills he pops or how many times he puts you and those children on the back burner. You will always defend him.”

“I will. And you know why? Because he’s a good man, mom. He’s a good man and he’s a great husband and he’s an even better father. Only you don’t see that side of him. You’ve never been able to. You REFUSE to see it. You refuse to see how much he loves me and his kids. How he’d do anything to protect us. How he’s so willing to lay down his life for mine. You don’t see any of that. Because you don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you get some air?” Tyler suggests. “You’re getting a little worked up, babe. Just go and take a few minutes and…”

“I WILL defend him,” Esme continues. “I will ALWAYS defend him. I will defend him until my last breath. And you know why? Because he would do the same for me. He HAS done the same for me. No questions asked. So don’t you care come into my house and disrespect my husband like this. I spent years letting you walk all over me. And I refuse to let you try that shit now.”

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, Tyler gets to his feet; pushing into the soft flesh as a silent request for her to follow. “We’re going to go and step outside for a bit. Neither of us do very well when people just show up on the doorstep. And she’s a little on edge; Christmas always stresses her out.”

“It’s not Christmas,” his wife argues. “It’s her! It’s always her! And she just keeps pushing me and pushing me…”

His hand moves to the back of her neck, effectively steering her towards the front hallway. “Let’s go and get some air. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Only thing that’s going to make me feel better is that bitch out of my house,” Esme mutters, as she shoves her feet into her beloved -and hated, by him and the kids- Crocs as he opens the front door and gently pushes her outside. Smirking when he hears The Sarge laying into the mother in law; accusing her of being insensitive and intentionally ‘stirring the pot’ and to stop acting like the victim when she’s the one that’s ‘doling out the bullshit’.

Stepping out onto the porch, he allows the door to shut behind him, then lays his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “You need to calm down.”

“I can’t do this.” She shivers in the cold; arms folded across her body and her hands aggressively rubbing her biceps. “I thought I could. I thought I could keep my shit together; get through the next couple of days. I can’t even last two hours! Here I was worried that you’d be the one to lose it! Yet I’m ready to throw her out the front window!”

“I need you to take a breath and calm down. Don’t let her do this. This is what she wants. She wants to get under your skin and she wants to ruin things for you. Don’t give her that satisfaction, Me. You just give her power when you do that.”

“I can’t help it. She just gets under my skin and she keeps digging away and digging away. Until I can’t take it anymore. And she knows exactly what buttons to push! She knows the more she shit talks you, the angrier and more defensive I get. She knows that’s my weakness. In the same way that shitty people know yours is me and the kids. It’s why she does it; to see me squirm and get worked up and eventually snap.”

“Which is why you need to settle the fuck down.” He runs his palms along her arms, vigorously rubbing against the chilled skin. “Don’t let her do this. Don’t let her screw things up for you. For US. That's what she wants. She spent five years trying to tear us apart. She tried ruining what we had every chance she got when we were in Colorado. And if you let her get under your skin like that? You let her do that? You give her all the power. That’s what she wants. That control. Don’t fucking let her win.”

“I can’t stand when she talks about you like that. I know you have thick skin. I know you can take it. You don’t let it bother you. But think about what it feels like when someone talks shit about me. Or disrespects me. Think about how that makes YOU feel.”

“I hate it. It hurts. Makes me want to hurt them right back. Physically, usually.”

“You know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on. Well that’s what it's like for me, too. When she starts in on you. It hurts. Because I know who you are and I know much you love me and our kids and the lengths you’ll go to take care of us. To protect us. I’ve seen you on death’s door. TWICE. Because of me. Because you’ve always been so willing to sacrifice yourself for me. So when she starts on her bullshit…”

“She’s never going to see me the way you do. Hell, I don’t even see myself the way you do. But she’s another story altogether. You KNOW what she’s like. You know the hate she has for me and why she has it. So why do you let it bother you THAT bad? Just let it go in one ear and out the other, Me. Take it from the source.”

“I’m not like you, Tyler. I can’t just turn my feelings off like that. I’ve never been able to.”

“I don’t turn my feelings off. If I could, do you really think I would have busted my ass twelve and half years to get you out of Dhaka? If I was able to turn them off, I would have left you and Ovi behind and I would have saved myself. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone through what I did FIVE years ago. I don’t turn my feelings off and you know that. I take it from the source, babe. And her? She’s not worth my time. I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. She’s doing it to be petty. She wants power. She wants control. I won’t give it to her. And you shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Just let her walk all over me. Say shit about my husband. About my kids! I can’t just sit back and listen to that shit. I just can’t.”

“So stay your distance from her. As much as you can. Avoid being alone with her. Try not to get cornered into that kind of conversation with her. I will have your back no matter what. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. I DO know that. In the same way I have YOURS.”

“I don’t need you to defend me. Or protect me. Not against her. I've gone up against bigger and better and I’ve lived to tell about it. But fuck with family? Disrespect my wife? That’s not going to happen. And you need to trust me to be the one to handle things IF they get out of control. Can you do that? Trust me?”

“I always trust you. I always HAVE. With my life. With our kids’ lives.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He rubs his hands against her upper arms, then tucks her hair behind her ears and cradles her face in his palms. “I need to get your shit together, okay? I need you. To be my wingman. Or woman. I can NOT deal with your mother and eight kids all my own. There is no way I can survive that. So you think it can keep it together? For my sake?”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think so.”

“Because those kids are going to be home soon and your mom being here is going to throw them off and who knows what kind of shit show is going to go down. Don’t bail on me, Esme. I need you. In more ways than one. In EVERY way, actually.”

“Finally admitting it, huh?” She chides. “Only took you twelve and a half years.”

“I know you’re going to try and argue with me, but I need you a lot more than you need me.” 

“I don’t think…”

“Nope." He pecks her lips to silence her. "Not gonna listen. Not even going to give you the chance to finish that sentence. Because you know I’m right. You always talk about how brave and strong I am? Me, you’re the bravest and strongest person I know. That I’ve EVER known. The things I’ve seen you go through? Willingly? The things I've seen you deal with in the past twelve and a half years? The things you've done? Especially for me? There is no one on this earth that’s stronger than you, believe me. And you have no idea how much I really do love you. How much I actually do worship you and respect you."

“It’s only Christmas Eve and you’re already going to make me cry. Don’t you usually hold off until Christmas Day? When you do something so incredibly sweet and romantic and amazing?”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he grins, then tangles his fingers in her hair and gently tugs her head back; lips softly pressing against his forehead. “Just stick with me, kiddo. You’ll be alright.”

“I remember you saying those exact words to me. At Gaspar’s house. In the guest room. After we…”

“It wasn’t RIGHT after. And I was being an asshole. Because you made fun of me because you said I had gray hair in my beard.”

“I didn’t make fun of you. I said it was sexy. That it would look distinguished if the whole thing went gray.”

“Old. You said I’d look old.”

“Well I MEANT distinguished.”

“Sure you did.”

“And look, twelve and a half years later, and you still have the same amount of gray in your beard. A little more in your hair, mind you.”

“All those gray hairs? They all have your name on them.”

“You can complain all you want. You can bitch and moan that I’m stubborn and I’m difficult and that I’m a huge pain in your ass. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

He hates the feeling of dread that creeps in at those last three words; so simple and said in a light and playful way, but sending a chill that seems to borrow through his bones and travel right to his very soul. It’s his worst nightmare; facing a future without her and struggling to stay on the straight and narrow for the benefit of his kids. His old vices would return with a vengeance; the booze and the pain meds and suicidal tendencies. And then he’d lose any and all remaining links to her; his children torn from him because his demons and weaknesses would somehow overpower his love for them. But he manages a smile for her sake; never wanting her to realize just how much losing her WOULD actually destroy him. 

“I don’t even like thinking about that.” His hands slip from her hair; sliding down her spine and resting at the small of her back . “Never mind talking about it.”

The smile broadens, and she perches her on tiptoes in order to wrap her arms around his neck. “I knew it,” she says, eyes sparkling playfully up as her body leans into his. “I AM your favourite. You do love me, Tyler Rake.”

“I do,” he confirms, and he lightly slaps his palms against the cheeks of her ass; lightly squeezing before drawing her into him and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And you have no idea how much.”


	21. Tough Love

Tyler waits on the front porch; hands shoved in the pockets of his sweater, the hood pulled over his head and sitting low on his brow. It’s been sixty minutes since they’d returned inside following the near blowout with Esme’s mother. Tempers cooled and nerves somewhat calmed, but an awkwardness hanging heavily in the air. Conversation had steered clear of the job and the business itself; focusing on life in Australia and the success of the bookstore and how the kids are doing at school and with sports and extracurricular activities. He’d done his best to ignore the mother in law’s dirty looks and snide comments every time he opened his mouth; her annoyance seemingly centered on the fact that he IS so hands on. So ready, willing and able to put everything else aside when it comes to his wife and children; focused on a strong marriage and positive, healthy relationships with his kids. And he’d endured the passive aggressive remarks. Those backhanded little compliments about he manages to find the time to both run a business AND raise a family, then hinting at their past marital troubles and how they could barely manage to keep things afloat and with only FOUR children, never mind seven. And there were the rolls of the eyes and the smirks of disgust when it came to some of the kids’ names; the choice of a Tyler Junior and the nickname Millie and how ‘plain and boring’ the names Adeline and Brooklyn are. And why Takota? Why something so eccentric and obscure that the child will only be picked on for? To which he’d reminded her that it was actually quite common back home; popular with the Aboriginals and a nod to the two friends who had made such an impact on their lives five years ago. But nothing is ever good for her. A sensitivity chip’ long broken or actually missing’; not enabling her to see the significance between the chosen monikers or to understand their need to pay homage to Andy and Koen.

He’d been spared any talk of Kyle’s upcoming nuptials; interrupted by a text from Desi saying he was bringing the kids back and wanted to make sure they weren’t being returned to an empty house. He’d seen the panic that had come over Esme’s face when he’d announced he had to step outside to ‘take care of business’. The sheer dread at the thought of being left alone to face a potential onslaught; her eyes widening, entire body stiffening, and her nails painfully digging into his forearm when he attempted to stand. It had been physically painful to see her like that; a far cry from the woman that’s so strong and so confident when the cards have been stacked against them and they’d faced seemingly insurmountable odds. The one who’d put her own life on the line to save his ass on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Who’d so willingly given up an old life in favour of a new one with him; a man she barely knew in a country thousands of miles away from home. Who had stuck by him every time he’d fallen back into old habits; never giving up when he went back to drinking and abusing pain meds and his fear of being a failure and a disappointment had sent him running. Just five years ago she’d spent not only countless nights sleeping next to his hospital bed, but torturous, long days fighting with doctors on the best options for surgeries and therapies. Refusing to let the professionals ‘count him out’; pressuring them to give him a chance to prove just how strong and resilient he actually was. And then there’d been months helping nurse him back to health; keeping him properly fed and on a strictly controlled medication schedule, attending both physiotherapy and counselling appointments, helping him with simple tasks like taking a shower or the stretches that aided in keeping his repaired ligaments and tendons from tightening and seizing up. All that and she’d been pregnant with the twins; number six and seven growing and thriving inside of her despite the enormous stress and worry piled upon her.

Esme has always been HIS rock. Whether she realizes it or not. A woman barely above five feet and a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet taking care of HIM. Supporting him and loving him even on the days when his body and brain are suffering and she’s the target of his anger and frustration. Keeping him going when all he wants to do was give up; reminding him of everything he has and just how loved he actually is and how far he’s come since that day they stood across from each other in the shack in the outback. SHE’S the strong one; tenacious and resilient and possessing patience and adoration much bigger than her tiny body. To see her as anything but hurts in ways he can’t even begin to explain; devastated by the fear and the uncertainty in those big, dark eyes. The way they silently plead with him not to leave her. Eyes that no longer belong to a grown woman, wife, and mother, but a terrified and tormented little girl that’s worried about being abandoned.

Sarge had come to the rescue. Sensing both Esme’s panic and Tyler’s hesitancy on leaving her side; never saying a word when he abandoned sitting beside his wife in favour of supporting his daughter. And he’d clapped Tyler on the shoulder and given a reassuring smile; promising that he’d had things under control and that Esme was in good hands. Yet it had still been difficult to leave her side. Reminiscent of the moment...almost thirteen years ago...in Dhaka when she realized that he was sending her off with Saju and Ovi; the mixture of fear and hurt and betrayal that had been written all over her face. Although logically she’d known it was for the best, she’d felt as if she was being abandoned; the one person that had been entrusted to keep her safe and sound -and who’d made her feel secure and protected- suddenly turning their back on her. It had never been about that; hurting her or disappointing her or going back on his promises. He’d made the decision he had to keep her alive; knowing that it was highly unlikely either of them would survive if they didn’t split up. It’s the wounds of the past that hurt the most; his nature to second guess his decisions and dwell on the things he could -should- have done differently. 

When he’d slipped outside, Michelle was -in an eerily calm fashion- questioning Esme’s reluctance to attend her brother’s wedding; the latter attempting to explain that she didn’t know if it was for the best, giving the way her relationship with Kyle had imploded and he’d been unceremoniously kicked out of their lives. And he’d lingered in the open doorway when he’d heard his mother in law toss his name into the ring; vehemence dripping from her voice as she blamed him for all of the destruction within their family. But Esme had hung in there. Sighing heavily and then explaining just what had happened. The things that Kyle had said about Tyler in front of his own children, the manipulation and the bullying, and the underhandedness of buying her and the kids one way plane tickets to Colorado; an attempt to single handedly destroy her marriage and rip her family -her REAL family- apart. And when Michelle had tried to argue, Esme had shut her down; reminding her that she wasn’t there and she had no clue what went on and she had no right ‘sticking her nose into their business so stay the hell out of it’. It was silence after that; no counter arguments from the mother in law and no snide remarks about him controlling her and bullying her into staying with him. And there’d been a smile of both satisfaction and pride on his face when he’d stepped out onto the porch.

He hears the kids before he sees them; Millie and Alannah’s penchant for chattering at max volume, Declan’s fast and hyper speech, TJ’s hearty laugh, the adorable, sweet giggles that belong to Brooklyn and Takota. All accompanied by Desi’s deep voice; smooth and calm, never losing even an ounce of patience. He’s a gentle giant; a massive man with an even bigger heart. And the first person in a long time that’s ever made Tyler feel small; several inches taller and almost a hundred pounds heavier.

“Daddy!” Addie squeals when she sees him; both of her mittened hands excitedly waving at him, tiny legs kicking against Desi’s side in a request to be put down. 

Her reaction is always the same when they’re reunited, whether he’s gone two weeks, a couple of days, or even a few hours. Those enormous, dark eyes widening and sparkling and her entire face lighting up as soon as she spots him. That little face pressed up against the window of the school bus when it pulls up in front of the house and how happy she gets when she spies him at the end of the driveway; waving enthusiastically and bouncing up and down in her seat, unable to contain her excitement. It’s the shriek she gives when she discovers -after he’s been gone for a week- that he’s waiting in the school yard at the end of the day. How she drops all of her belongings and races barefoot towards him; repeatedly squealing his name in between giggles, tears of pure, unbridled happiness streaming down her face. So full of light and exuberance and unconditional love; a brilliant ray of sunshine that was created during a difficult and scary time and as an infant had helped keep him grounded and focused during the more trying and painful days of his post Dhaka recovery. A wee little thing with a heart bigger than her body; possessing a staggering amount of compassion and empathy. Whether it’s taking the time to prepare peanut butter sandwiches for Charlie the Joey’s twice daily visits or picking flowers of collecting shells to gift to mom or dad when they’re having a bad time, Addie’s heart is always full; her spirit so bright and bubbly that she makes even his burdens seem so much lighter.

He’s down the steps and in the middle of the front walk when the gate swings open; Addie shrieking and giggling and racing towards him as fast as her heavy winter boots will allow. And he easily and effortlessly scoops her up into his embrace; tiny arms circling his neck and squeezing as tight as they possibly can. His eyes closing; a palm on the middle of her back holding her as close as he possibly can. He’d needed it; the power that comes from a hug from someone so tiny yet loves you so profoundly. 

“Hi daddy,” she chirps, and pulls back to look at him; wool mittens coming to rest on the sides of his face . “I missed you.”

“You weren’t even gone twenty four hours.”

“Doesn’t matter how long I’m gone for. I STILL miss you.” She pecks his lips, then giggles when she brushes the tip of her nose against his. That smile; crinkling the corners of her eyes and calling attention to the tiny dimples in her cheeks. So much like her mother; the big, dark eyes and the smattering of freckles and the petite features. And maybe that’s why he DOES baby her; doting on her in a way he’s never done with any of the others. Reminding him so much of the person that came along and saved his life; not only rescuing him on that bridge in Bangladesh, but from the monsters and the demons threatening to devour him. “Did you miss me?”

“Always. I always miss you.”

“Because I’m your favourite?”

“I don’t have favourites. I love ALL of you.”

“But you love me most, right?”

“Maybe…”

“You can tell me, daddy. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re pretty close to the top of the list. The one of my most favourite people ever.”

“Mommy’s at the top.”

“That’s right. And who’s number two?”

“Kelly Slater.”

“Atta girl.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and she giggles when he playfully rubs his scruff against smooth, sensitive skin.

“Your beard is growing. It’s getting softer now. Bushy.”

“Think I should shave it?”

“No way, Jose. I don’t like you with no beard. You look weird. You don’t look like daddy. I want you to look like daddy, not some stranger. You’re much cuter with stuff on your face.”

“Maybe trim it up a bit? Get it short like before?”

“Keep it like this. I like it. I like when it’s big and soft and doesn’t scratch my face.”

He grins. “You really ARE your mother’s daughter.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is definitely not a bad thing. It’s a very good thing. A very, very, VERY good thing.” Pecking the tip of her nose, he once more holds her close; a hand on the back of her head and his lips pressed to her temple. 

Sometimes he still thinks about it; the night in Mumbai when someone had gotten close enough to grab her. And it would have made a much more powerful statement than stealing a stuffed koala; using his infant daughter as a pawn in their sick and twisted game. Thankfully it hadn’t escalated to that; they’d been satisfied with a tattered and well loved children’s toy. Because if Mahajan’s people had taken her, the chances were great that they would never have seen her again; no mercy would be shown, no matter how young and innocent the victim. 

He wouldn’t have survived that; losing another child and forever holding himself responsible for it. His life would have been over. Esme would have hated him and left him; she’d rightfully blame him and take the surviving kids and sever all ties. His old vices would have been his chosen escape; drinking himself to death or OD'ing on pain meds or even getting up the courage to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. And maybe that’s why he DOES hold on so tight to Addie. Often kneeling beside her bed at night and watching her sleep; tears in his eyes as he continuously runs a palm over her hair and marvels at how beautiful and perfect she is. The threat had been far too real; he’d been dangerously close to losing her. It wasn’t like the fear and the worry that had plagued him in the weeks leading up to Millie turning six ; logically he’d known that she wouldn’t wake up and have some life altering -and ending- disease. But Addie had come face to face with evil and what could have been her demise. And it’s terrifying to even consider what COULD have happened.

Soon the others are through the gate and greeting him; one armed hugs and pecks on the lips from the oldest four and demands to be picked up and snuggled from Brooklyn and Takota. The latter insists on being held; settled on one hip while Addie continues to stay perched on the other. And he tells the others to hang back; wanting to talk to them before heading inside and suggesting they either play in the snow in the front or the rear yard while he and the neighbour speak.

“I don’t think I like that look on your face,” Desi remarks. “Not my favourite look of yours.”

“What look is that?”

“The look that says you’re ready to kill a man. With your bare hands.”

“I’ve thought about it a couple times already. And the day’s still young.” Pressing a kiss to Takota’s cheek, followed by Addie’s, he places them on the ground; straightening beanies and tightening scarves and fixing slipping mittens. "You guys go and play. Stay outside. I’ll be back in a few, alright? I need to have a word with Desi.”

Takota’s head tilts to the side; vibrant blue eyes looking up at him quizzically. “What word?” 

“A bunch of words. It’s a saying. It means you want to talk to someone. Go on…” laying a hand on the back of his son’s head, he gently pushes him in the direction of the backyard. “...play with the others and I’ll be there in a bit. No going inside. Not until we have a chat.”

Addie frowns; lips forming a pout and the bridge of her nose crinkling. “About what?”

“You’ll find out when I’m ready to tell you. Now go. Tell the others what I said. No going in the house.”

“Come on, ‘Kota,” she grabs a hold of her younger brother’s hand, nearly pulling him off his feet when she starts stomping through the snow. Little but tough; he’s seen her hold her own against her much bigger and more rambunctious siblings. Never backing down from any challenge and never failing to keep up with even the more active and seemingly fearless older boys. And he watches them as they hurry off, grinning when the toe of one of Addie’s boots catches a hard patch of snow and she loses her footing and they both go down; ending up in a giggling heap of snow pants and winter gear. Takota hiccuping as he rolls off of his sister and both take a moment to make snow angels; chapped, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes turned up towards the sky as arms and legs swish against the white powder below.

Both are so pure and innocent; unable to remember the harder and more worrisome of days and untouched by the worries and the fears that still plague their older siblings. Neither of them are fully aware of his past; the things he’s had to do to stay alive in order to return to his family. The things that his hands and his body are capable of. All that matters to them is his presence in their lives. An attentive and adoring father that scares the monsters in closets away and patches skinned up knees. Who never complains about the glitter under his nails or in his beard after helping them with crafts and who patiently sits at the back patio table back home and helps with school projects and homework. Who always tries his best to be present and to split his time evenly between them. The older ones can still recall when they didn’t get the same experiences. Weeks where he was away from home and the time he’d spent in the hospital and the long and painful road to recovery. They’ve been damaged by the mistakes he’s made and all of his broken promises. Loving him yet still harboring some hurt from the six months he’d spent away from them and the times the drinking and the pain meds had turned him into a complete stranger; the heated arguments he’d get into with their mother, the things he said that hurt her and made her cry, the holes he punched in walls and doors. 

He’s not proud of any of it and he certainly makes no excuses for his behaviour back then; owning up to the wounds that he’d caused and the tears that his wife had shed and the fear he’d instilled in little Tanner. He’s vowed to make up for it; make amends for the wrongs by trying to do everything right. And he’s still trying to forgive himself for it; plagued with guilt and regret for the things he’d said and done to the one person he loves more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything. Esme has moved on from it; forgiving him and accepting his apologies and his changed behaviour and loving him even harder and deeper. But there’s part of him that can’t do the same; haunted by the words that had come out of his mouth and the way he'd treated her and the painful memory of the heartbreak and betrayal that had been so evident in her eyes and her voice. But he’s working on it; therapy helping him ease some of the sting of regret. 

**** 

“They’re good kids,” Desi says, as they watch Takota and Addie disappear around the side of the house. “Damn good kids. ALL of ‘em.”

“We did good. Not too bad for two messed up people. They’re turning out alright; we haven’t screwed them up too much.”

“Whatever you guys are doing, you’re doing a fine job. Oldest ones got good heads on their shoulders. They’re good people. And the littles? Cute as all hell. There’s no screwing up going on there, I assure you of that. You and Esme are doing it right by those kids. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“We try. We don’t want them ending up like this. Brains all fucked up. We don’t want them going through the shit we did. It’s all we want; be different and better than we had.”

“Well so far? So far all I see is some well adjusted kids. They’re happy and smart as hell and have loads of personality. There’s nothing wrong with them. Yeah, they can be shit heads. Especially the older ones. But what kid CAN’T? So what’s going on? Who you ready to kill? Or have you done it already and you’re fixin' to get me to help move a body?”

“No blood shed. Not yet anyway. But we got visitors. Very unexpected and VERY unwelcome.”

“Uh oh. By the sounds of that and the sparkle of homicide in your eyes, that can only mean one thing. And to that? All I can say is no. Nooo. Noooooo. Not the monster in law. Please tell me it’s NOT her.”

“Living and breathing in all her evil glory. Showing up at my front door. Which is fucked up all in itself, considering we haven’t been in contact with her in almost six years and sure as hell never sent her our address. And it’s not easy to find out; I made sure of that.”

“You know, I told Big E something like this would happen. That the old bat would pull some stunt like this. I told her that she better not keep ignoring her; old girl gonna snap and do something crazy. I told her not to put anything past her, but…”

“I love my wife. In ways I never thought it was possible to love another human being. And you know she’s the center of my universe; I’d do anything for her. But sometimes? Sometimes she’s so fucking difficult. Sometimes I swear she does things just to get a reaction out of me; see how far she can push me until I completely snap. I told her too. I told her to get in contact with her mum. That she wouldn’t like the result if she didn’t. And NOW look.”

“Big E likes to do things on her own terms. I’ve noticed that. Tiny as hell, but the will of ten grown men, I swear. She always been like that? Giving you a run for your money?”

“Since day one. Since she deliberately didn’t listen to me and could have gotten herself into a shit load of trouble. And you know what she said? Her excuse? She said she could ‘handle herself’ and that my rules were ‘stupid and unreasonable’. What’s stupid about telling someone to stick close by so you can protect their ass?”

“Sounds just like her,” Desi chuckles. “Boy, you knew what you were getting into and you still went for it? That’s some balls of steel right there. Knowing what a challenge you had ahead of you and STILL scooping her up. Don’t tell her I said any of this; she’s pocket size but I’m still scared of her. I know she could knock me down a peg or two. You’re a brave man; putting up with her shit day in and day out. For TWELVE years.”

“And people wonder why I drink? Why I have gray hair? Spend an hour with her and you’d know. And don’t tell her what I’m saying either. I kind of like my sex life and I don’t want to spend the rest of my natural born life sleeping on the couch.”

“How she holding up? I know things are pretty testy between her and Mommy Dearest.”

“She’s not drinking herself stupid or crying in a corner, curled up in a fetal position. Yet. It could still happen. You think I’m the homicidal one? Have you ever seen Esme when someone talks shit about me? Or our kids? You say I’m liable to kill a person with my bare hands? Don’t underestimate her.”

“It’s the little ones you gotta watch out for, am I right? You want me to come in there with ya? I know I seem like a big old softie, but I can be pretty intimidating. And I CAN help hide a body. I know places. People. We could make it look like an accident. Leave no trace behind. Would anyone really miss her?”

“They’d be more relieved than anything. We’d probably be doing the whole family a public service. And as much as I’d enjoy taking care of her, I think I better keep my homicidal tendencies to myself. For now.”

“This is fucked up. What’s her issue anyway? You haven’t done anything wrong. So Esme met you and fell in love and stayed in Australia and all that. Who cares? She deserved a life. A GOOD life. You think the monster in law would be happy; her kid finding someone that worships her and thinks the sun shines out of her ass. You guys got a good thing. A good life. A GREAT life. How can she not be happy about that?”

“She’s not happy unless she’s controlling things. Unless she can be a bully. And that won’t happen. Not on my watch.”

“You keep fighting the good fight. Keep protecting that wife of yours. Even if she thinks she doesn’t need it and can handle shit on her own. Ask me, the world needs more men like that. Who aren’t afraid to stand up for others. Who aren’t scared to do what’s right. You sure you don’t want me to stick around? I can put off the shit I need to do. I don’t mind hanging out, putting the fear of God into people.”

“As much as I appreciate it, it’ll probably only make things worse. But I’ll call ya; if I got some garbage to dispose of.”

“I better be first on your list. I know how to stay quiet. Keep a secret. And you know what else I can do? Tough love. It’s a specialty. And you’re about to get some…”

“I don’t let anyone near my ass, so if that’s your idea of tough love…”

“As much as that would make my day and I’ll go to my grave wishing you called me up for THAT, I’ll have to do with my imagination. What I was going to say is that you need to take it easy on yourself. I know you’ve got your issues and you’re sick and you can’t help being the way you are sometimes, but you need to stop letting all that nonsense live rent free in your head. You’re a good person. It don’t matter what you’ve done or what you still continue to do. That’s a means to an end, know what I’m saying? The things you’ve had to do? That you still have to do sometimes? That’s all about survival and getting back to your family. And no one would fault you for that. You’re not doing that shit because you enjoy it. You do it ‘cause you have to.”

“I wish it was that easy. That that’s all it’s about.”

“I don’t pretend to understand that life or why you got into it or why you stay in it. That’s between you and whatever higher power you believe in. But you know what I DO understand? What I DO know? I know you’re a good man. I know you’ve got a hell of a big heart. And I know you love your wife beyond all comprehension. That there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her or your kids. I also know you’ve proved that time and time again. You’re not the horrible person your brain is making you out to be. I know it’s hard to ignore that shit, but you need to try and shut it down. Because you’ve got yourself a good thing here. A good woman. That loves you despite all the bad shit you’ve been through. I don’t think you realize just how much she DOES love you. How anyone would kill to have someone that sticks by them like that. See yourself through HER eyes. Because they’re not lying. They’re telling the truth.”

“I wish I could, Des. I wish I could turn it all off and see myself the way she does. The way she always has. But it’s not that easy. It’s fucking hard. Getting past all the shit in my head.”

“You need to let go of the past. Of the mistakes you made. They don’t matter anymore. That guy? He died a long time ago. Back on that bridge in Dhaka. That guy? He’s long gone. And you need to let him go. You need to forgive yourself for the things HE did. All that guilt and regret? That shit is going to weigh you down. It’s going to destroy not just you, but what you have. A person can only take so much, know what I’m saying?”

Tyler nods.

“Let him go. He’s gone. Stop hanging on to him and his shit. Once you do that? I can guarantee things get a lot lighter and a lot easier. Not just on you, but her,” Desi nods in the direction of the living room window. “And I know that’s what you want. You want her to be happy. And she is. For now. But that guy? The old Tyler? He’s going to fuck things up if you don’t let him go. If you don’t drop him and realize you’re not HIM anymore? You’re going to hurt her whether you want to or not. Hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

“Just keep being who you are. Not the guy you were back then. Fuck him. He’s gone. Be who you WANT to be. Be who she needs. You do that, it’ll be smooth sailing. You both deserve that. That kind of peace. So let that shit go, a’right? I know it ain’t easy, but shit. At least try. If not for yourself, for her. And those kids. Am I making any sense?”

“You ever thought of being a therapist? ‘Cause you sure as shit sound like one.”

“I only do this for the people that matter,” Desi says, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat as he walks backwards towards the gate. “That I love. You and your family? You’re good people. Damn good people. So you’ve fucked up a time or two. Who hasn’t? So you’ve had to do some things you’re not too proud of. So fucking what? We’ve all been there. In different ways, but we have. Just keep being you, Aussie. And while you’re at, be you in gray sweats more often. That’s a damn beautiful sight.”

Tyler smirks. “You HAVE been spending too much with my wife.”

“You think I don’t notice. That I don’t pay attention. But I do. Desmond Brownell admires a good thing when he sees it. And what you got going down there? Down under? It’s impressive, son.”

“You’re a disturbed bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he grins. “ But I’m also a truthful bastard. Later, handsome. Remember, I’m your go to guy; I’ll clean up the crime scene AND dispose of the trash. I got you.”

*****

“I’m super confuzzled, daddy,” Addie laments, as they take refuge from the cold in the sunroom; older kids helping the younger ones out of their winter gear.

“About what?” He drops to a knee in front of her; fingers tending the laces on her boots, tiny hands coming to rest on his shoulders in order to keep herself from losing her balance and toppling over. “What are you confuzzled about?”

“You said it too,” she giggles. “You said confuzzled. Like me. And mummy.”

“What can I say? You girls and your silliness are rubbing off on me. What’s got you super confuzzled?”

“I thought grandma was dead. People don’t come back from the dead. Unless they’re zombies.” She gives a dramatic gasp, eyes widening in sheer terror. “She’s not a zombie, is she? I don’t like zombies. They’re scary. They eat brains.”

“TJ and Declan would be safe then,” Millie quips, and receives dirty looks from both brothers and a middle finger from Declan.

“We’d be totally safe if we stuck to daddy,” Tanner pipes up. “If anyone can get through a zombie apocalypse, it’s daddy.”

“But I don’t want a zombie apocalypse,” Addie argues. “I don’t like them. They’re really scary! And I don’t want daddy to get hurt! What if one bites him? Then he’ll turn into a zombie and then what do we do, Tanny? What then? If the only big and strong guy turns into a zombie, what the hell do we do? We’re screwed.”

“Nobody is turning into a zombie,” Tyler assures her, and yanks off her hat and peels off her scarf; tossing both onto the nearby love seat. “And zombies don’t exist. They’re fake.”

“You THINK they’re fake,” Tanner says. “Because you haven’t seen one. But a lot of things exist that we haven’t seen. Doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

Sighing heavily, he stares pointedly at his son.

“I’m just sayin’, dad. Anything is possible.”

“It’s grandma Adeline that died,” Millie explains to her sister, and gently plucks the elastic from the five year old’s hair; using her palms to smooth down frizzy wayward strands and then resetting the ponytail. “Dad’s mum. This grandma is mum’s mum.”

“The mean one?”

“Yup. The VERY mean one. The evil one.”

“Millie…” Tyler gives her a stern look of warning. “...don’t…”

“How evil?” Addie inquires. “How mean is she? Like Maleficent? THAT evil? Does she look like her too?”

“She’s more like Ursula from The Little Mermaid Evil. Mixed with some Cruella Deville.”

“Millie…” Tyler attempts once more. “...please…”

“Shit…” Addie gives a dramatic shudder. “...that IS mean! And ugly too!”

“You stop,” he orders his oldest daughter, then frowns at the five year old in front of him. “You too.”

“Does she steal puppies?” Addie presses on. “Does she skin them? Alive?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Millie grumbles, then holds up her hands in surrender when her dad glares at her. They all know the look; the darkness in his eyes and the furrows in his brow and the way his jaw sets. “Why is she even here? I thought mum told them all to get lost. After you kicked the shit out of Uncle Kyle. Who deserved it by the way.”

“He deserved worse than what dad gave him,” TJ chimes in. “WAY worse.”

“I don’t want her here,” Millie continues. “She’s the LAST person I want here. Do you want her here, Teej? Do you Tanner?”

Both shake their heads.

“What about you Declan? Do you want her here?”

“I don’t even remember her. I was a baby when we moved away. But if she’s THAT bad…”

“I don’t want her here either if she’s THAT bad,” Brooklyn says. “Bad people bring bad vibes, daddy.”

“We’re going to have to sage this place for sure,” Tanner laments. “Big time.”

“Mum!” Millie rushes for the door when Esme steps through; hands angrily set on her hips. “What is SHE doing here?”

“Well hello to you too, sunshine. What’s up your butt?”

“Why is grandma here? She’s a horrible person. She treated you like crap when you were a kid. She STILL tries to and you’re an adult with a husband and kids of your own. Remember what she said to me? About how I was a mistake because you and dad weren’t married when you made me? Remember THAT?”

“She told me daddy was going to hell,” Tanner adds. “I had bad dreams for three years.”

“We don’t want her here,” Millie informs her mother. “Tell her to get lost. She’s not welcome here. Why are you even letting her stay?”

“You know what?” Tyler steps between his wife and oldest daughter; palms planted on Millie’s shoulders. “This isn’t your mum’s fault. Don’t take it out on her. So shit can the attitude and talk to her like she deserves. She’s your mother; you don’t disrespect her like that. Ever. And none of this is her fault. So knock it off, hear me?”

Millie nods, a pout curving her lips.

He turns his attention to his wife; leaning down to press a chaste to her lips. “Everything okay? You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Things have been pleasant. Well, as pleasant as they can be when it comes to my mother. I haven’t started day drinking, so that’s saying something. I take it you told them? About our company?”

“Why IS she here?” TJ asks. “I thought you told her and the rest of them to get lost?”

“She wanted to see you guys. Declan had just started walking the last time she saw all of you. And she’s never even met Brookie or ‘Kota or Addie. I guess she felt it was time to fix that. Guess she thought what better time than Christmas?”

“Leopards don’t change their spots,” Tanner says. “They’ll eat you alive though. Does she HAVE to be here? Do we HAVE to talk to her?”

“I’d appreciate it. If you guys would tow the line and at least TRY and be pleasant. A little civility goes a long way.”

“I don’t want to meet her,” Addie whines, as she clings to her father’s leg. “She sounds scary.”

“Daddy and I will be with you,” Esme assures her. “She won’t hurt you, sweet pea. And remember, you don’t have to hug anyone. Not even your grandmother. Don’t let her or anyone else pressure you into that, okay? You do what you WANT and what you’re comfortable with. No one is going to force you to something you don’t feel good about, alright? Boundaries, remember?”

“Healthy boundaries make for healthy, happy children,” Addie recites. “I remember that. That doctor told us that. The one that lets us play with toys and talk about our feelings. Last time I told her about being upset because daddy wouldn’t let me get a hamster.”

“You already have two,” Tyler reminds her, and scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip. “You don’t need three.”

“Three’s a good number. I like odd numbers.”

“You’re odd,” he teases, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Can you at least try and be nice? To grandma? Even if it’s just to say hi?”

“You won’t make me hug her?”

“I will NOT make you hug her.”

“Promise, daddy? Promise you won’t?”

“I promise. And I would never make you do anything you don’t want to do. You should know that by now. Just a simple, little ‘hi’ is fine with me. And I think that’s fine with mummy, too.”

“That’s all I ask,” Esme confirms. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Don’t leave me alone with her daddy,” Addie pleads, and buries her face in the warm, safe place between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t want her stealing me and skinning me. Like Cruella does with the puppies.”

Esme gives him a quizzical look. “What the…?”

“It’s a long story,” he says, a hand coming to rest on the back of her neck and his lips meeting her forehead. “You ready to do this? Unleash the beasts on her?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, and wraps her arm around his waist. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”


	22. Juxtaposition

It goes better than expected.

The older kids handle the reunion remarkably well; fake yet believable smiles plastered upon their faces, accepting kisses on the cheek and praises and compliments regarding how big and beautiful they’ve gotten, and returning enthusiastic embraces with tense and awkward one arm hugs. They’re polite and mildly pleasant; sticking together in a small, tight group as they thank their grandparents for the gifts and answers questions about school and their favourite extra curricular activities and life in Australia as opposed to the U.S. And Esme notices the look of disappointment that comes across her mother’s face when it's obvious just how much the kids prefer ‘the land down under’; gushing about the house and the acres of property it sits on and the close proximity of the ocean. She knows her mother had long held out hope that the kids actually hate being where they are; thousands of miles away from any extended family and never getting to experience the true wonder of four different seasons. But they hold firm even when Michelle tries pushing them to commit to visiting Colorado; adamant that they're perfectly content where they are and have no desire to ever go back to THAT part of their lives. Australia is home; the sand and the surf and the kangaroos and koalas and the smell of the salt of the ocean and the feel of blazing hot pavement under bare feet. 

Esme both understands and feels the same way. It’s where they belong and where they feel they can be exactly who they’re meant to be; not held towards ridiculous standards and allowed to freely explore and express themselves in every way they possibly can. There’s no judgement there; mom and dad encouraging them to be themselves and not bend to limits and labels put on them by others. Even twelve and half years ago Australia had been where she’d discovered herself; finding levels of freedom, comfort, and peace that she never even knew existed. The old Esme had been left behind; either perishing on that bridge in Dhaka or left in Bangladesh to wander aimlessly. She had ceased to exist the moment she chose to try and save Tyler’s life over her own well being; mere minutes away from safety yet refusing to leave him there to meet a likely extremely painful and gruesome end. That had been her choice; a chance at a new life with him as opposed to returning to an empty and meaningless existence.

The smaller children have a harder time accepting the sudden appearance of their grandparents; Brooklyn harshly firing off invasive questions while refusing all offers of affection, Takota tucking himself behind his mother’s legs and occasionally peeking out from behind and offering small, tense smiles, and Addie nervously and frightfully clinging to her father. Refusing to allow him to put her down; whining and pouting at the mere suggestion and then tightening her hold around his neck and digging her heels into his ribs. It takes nearly half an hour of Sarge attempting quiet and calm small talk before she relaxes; loosening her hold on Tyler’s neck and allowing him to finally sit down, but adamantly refusing to let him dispose of her entirely. She eventually begins to settle entirely; put at ease by Sarge’s deep and soothing voice and gentle disposition. The way he sits beside them, yet doesn’t infringe on her personal space, the soft smiles and the compliments on her ‘pretty clothes’ and being ‘beautiful just like her mommy’ and having the cutest little nose and freckles. It begins with her hold around Tyler’s neck going from two arms to one, followed by none; simply leaning back against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. It then proceeds to her slipping in between the two men and then finally ending up on Sarge’s lap. No fanfare or big deal made out of her brave move; just smiles exchanged as she settles in and begins chatting endlessly and amicably about her bedroom back home and the goats, chickens, and pigs, and Charlie the Joey that comes for peanut butter sandwiches.

While Brooklyn and the older kids eventually grow tired of socializing and head up to their rooms, Addie and Takota linger; the former now in her grandfather’s loving and protective embrace as they stand in front of the Christmas tree as she points out ‘special’ ornaments and the stories behind them. And after spending the majority of the ‘meet and greet’ hiding behind his mother’s legs and venturing a peek between her thighs every so often, he takes the opportunity left behind by his sister’s departure. Scurrying from one parent to the other and hurriedly climbing into Tyler’s lap; throwing both arms around his neck and curling his legs around his waist. 

He grimaces when a heel comes in contact with the scar at the small of his back. It’s been five years and direct pressure still hurts; a burning sensation that originates at the site of the bullet wound and then travels straight down the back of his leg. “Really ‘Kota? Really?”

“Really, daddy. Really.”

“Here…” he slides a forearm behind Takota’s knees and shifts his position. Sideways with tiny legs draped across his lap; both arms wrapped around his son’s petite frame and hands locked together and resting on the four year old’s hip. “...sit there. Other way’s hurting my back.”

Takota pops a thumb into his mouth. “Where the bad guy shot you.”

“Yup.”

“Daddy kills bad people,” the four year old informs his grandmother, as she sits in the nearby recliner.

“Takota…” Tyler’s voice bears a scolding tone. “...what did I tell you? About talking about that?”

“We don’t. Talk about it.”

“Then why are you?”

He shrugs. “Making conversation.”

“Well make conversation about something else. And this…” he wraps his fingers around his son’s wrist and pulls; effectively plucking the thumb from his mouth. “...does not belong in there. You’re not a baby.”

“Says who?”

“Me. And mommy. You want me to get you a bottle? A soother? Put you in a diaper?”

Takota pouts. “No.”

“Then the thumb stays out of the mouth.”

Giving a whimper in protest, he curls an arm around his dad’s neck and rests the side of his head against his chest. 

Tyler drops a kiss on Takota’s head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. But there will be in a few minutes if you don’t smarten up. What’s going on? Why you being like this?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs.

“Tired? Wanna have a nap?”

“Nope.”

“What if I do? What if I want a nap?”

“You have one. I don’t wanna nap.”

“You’re just being shy?”

Takota nods. “Don’t want to get my brain eaten.”

“I already told you, no one is getting their brain eaten. There’s no such thing as zombies.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that. All the bad people I’ve come across? Not one of them has been a zombie. Out of all the millions and millions.”

“That many? That many bad people?”

“That many,” he confirms. “And not one of those bad people were zombies.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, I’d know. Zombies aren’t real. They don’t exist. That’s just stuff TJ and Millie talk about to scare you guys. There’s no zombies and no one is going to eat your brain.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I won’t let anyone steal you and eat your brain. Or any part of you for that matter. So why don’t you get down and socialize and…”

“No!” Takota cries, and frantically scrambles up onto his knees, throwing both arms around Tyler’s neck and tightly pressing his much smaller, lighter body against his broad, solid chest. “No, daddy! I wanna stay with you!”

“I can’t hold you forever. I eventually have to put you down. What if I have to take a leak?”

“Take me with you. I don’t wanna get down. I wanna stay with you.”

“Why don’t you go and see mummy?” Tyler suggests, as Esme returns with fresh pots of tea and coffee; filling everyone’s respective drinks before setting the carafes on the cluttered coffee table and dropping heavily down onto the cushion beside him. “Mummy LOVES cuddles.”

“No,” Takota remains steadfast. “Mummy’s not comfy.”

“Excuse you,” Esme frowns. “I carry you inside of me for nine months, get all fat and gross and that’s how you thank me? By saying I’m not comfy? That’s some nerve, kid.”

“You’re beautiful, mummy. But daddy’s more comfy. He’s got bigger arms. So he gives better hugs. Your hugs are good, but they’re not daddy good.”

“I know who to NOT put my will now,” she teases, and tucks her feet under her and sips leisurely at her tea. 

She watches them together; father and son. The trust and the adoration in Takota’s brilliant blue eyes as enormous hands -with their multitude of scars and calluses and misshapen knuckles- tenderly cradling the back of his head as he’s laid along his father’s thighs; palms slipping down to the little one’s back as he dangles upside down between slightly parted legs. His t-shirt sliding up and revealing slightly tanned skin and the adorable pudginess that often comes with four year old tummies. A high pitch screech followed by his musical little giggles filling the living room when the tip of a nose and the roughness of a beard tickle tender flesh. Lips coming to rest over that slightly outward positioned belly button; blowing a loud ‘raspberry’; accompanied by Tyler’s rich, deep chuckle as he carefully pulls Takota back up and once more settles him on his lap. 

The smile on her husband’s face is real; reaching his eyes and making them sparkle and crinkling the corners. So genuine and beautiful; a man who has seen so much horror and inflicted so much brutality on others -and had it inflicted on him in return- still able to smile like that. Reserved for the people that are closest and most dear to him; his wife and children often the only ones who get to witness it. And it’s a juxtaposition; how gentle and attentive and caring he can be considering all of things he’s had to witness and do to stay alive. It still haunts him; mistakes of the past and having to kill people as a means of survival. He has a lot of blood on his hands; toes he’s stepped on and bridges that he’s burned. And if anyone should be cold and callous considering everything he’s done and has been done to him, it SHOULD be Tyler. But he’s become the opposite. He’s patient and loving and caring; hands that are capable of such damage remarkably soft and tender. Strong and burly; intimidating when need be. But possessing a heart that’s even bigger than his body.

“I really think you should get down,” Tyler says, and drops a kiss on the top of his son’s head. “So I can actually drink my coffee this time.”

“No,” Takota buries his face in the warm, safe place between his father’s neck and shoulder. “I want to stay with you. My tummy hurts.”

“Something tells me it doesn’t. Something tells me you’re making that up.”

“My teeth hurt,” Takota tries again.

“Your teeth hurt? Why? Got cavities?”

“No. They just hurt.”

“You got some loose ones in there? Let me take a peek. Let daddy look.” Tyler places one hand on the middle of the little one’s back, slightly tipping him backwards as the other rests on the top of Takota’s head. “Open up. Let me see.”

Takota obliges; bridge of his nose crinkling and the corners of his eyes scrunching as large yet surprisingly gentle fingers search his mouth for anything amiss.

“There’s nothing loose. Want me to yank them all out just in case?”

“No!” He speaks around the thumb and forefinger tightly grasping one of his top front teeth. “Daddy no! No yanking!”

“Why not? They’re baby teeth. You’ll get your adult ones. You won’t be toothless forever.”

“No!” Takota frantically wriggles in an attempt to get away. “No daddy! Don’t pull my teeth out! Mummy! Don’t let him yank ‘em!”

“Daddy is not going to yank your teeth out,” Esme assures him, and scowls at her husband and slaps him on the thigh. “Daddy, don’t. You’re tormenting him. He’s going to have nightmares.”

“I don’t know, mummy. It would save us dentist bills. Yank them all out now, worry about it when the big ones come in.”

“No!” Takota yells, and then shrieks when the fingers that were in his mouth find the sensitive spot just below his chin; savagely tickling until he’s giggling hysterically. “Daddy stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants!”

“Don’t get him so riled up,” Esme scolds. “It’s almost n-a-p time and you’re going to get him all worked up and it will never happen.”

“Mummy’s a party pooper,” Tyler says, and gathers Takota in his arms and settles him against his chest; lips finding his temple, palm coming to rest on the side of his head. The four year old gives a content sigh; arms once more curling around his dad’s neck, cheek pressed against the cotton of his henley shirt. “Tired?”

“No.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you ARE tired. Wanna go for a nap? I think you should go for a nap. Naps are good. You’ll love naps when you’re older.”

“Not tired. No nap.”

“How about if I lie down with you? Have my own little sleep? Would you nap then?”

“Maybe,” Takota singsongs.

“Let’s go and find out. Let’s at least try, yeah? Daddy could use a nap.”

“Daddy’s escaping,” Esme grumbles. “Daddy thinks he’s clever.”

“Daddy knows he’s clever,” he retorts, sliding a forearm under Takota’s bum and then standing up; wincing and muttering a barely ‘audible’ fuck as he’s assailed by pain in both the small of his back and his right knee. It’s a bitch of a thing; forty seven years old, getting yourself into what SHOULD be the best shape of your life, and having days where you feel like you’re ninety. It isn’t as bad as before; no longer chronic and debilitating. But there are moments of weakness where he longs for the relief brought on by the mixture of oxy and booze. 

“You alright?” Esme’s face is lined with worry; hand resting on his hip as he leans down to kiss her. It’s hard for her to turn off; the worry -and even the fear- that comes with the vivid recollection of the damage that had been inflicted upon him. She’d seen it with her own two eyes; TWICE. And she’d been the one accompanying him to painful and gruelling physiotherapy sessions; the person entrusted to manage his pain meds, the only one he let himself be vulnerable with and would cry to when it all got to be too much to bear. “You can take more meds. The day’s still young and you’re nowhere near your limit.”

“If it gets worse I’ll take some,” he assures her, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.”

“Don’t let yourself suffer,” she whispers. “ There’s no need for that. Just take the meds. Don’t do that to yourself, okay? I don’t want you suffering.”

“I’m fine right now. If it gets worse, I’ll grab some. Takota, give mummy a kiss. She needs a kiss.”

“Love you mumma,” the four year old says, as he dangles over her and he lands a peck on her lips. 

“I love you. Both of you. Sleep well. Just a little nap, okay? You don’t sleep tonight, Santa won’t come.”

“Just a little sleep,” Takota promises. “Daddy’s tired.”

“That’s because daddy's old and his body is falling apart,” Tyler says, and then slings his son over his shoulder; fingers hooked around one of the belt loops on Takota’s jeans, effectively and safely keeping him in place. 

Esme watches as they go; Takota’s giggles and his pleads of ‘don’t drop me, daddy!’ and her husband’s constant reassurances and promise. His long and purposeful gait familiar; the slight hitch of the hip and the limp that becomes more pronounced when he’s tired or the nerve issues are bothering him or the arthritis is acting up. But none of that matters; the dents and the blemishes and the damages done. He’s beautiful no matter what; surviving the worst possible circumstances and surpassing all the odds that had been stacked against him. Fighting battles with his own mind every day; forcing himself to open his eyes and pull himself out of bed for the sake of his wife and children. And THAT’S what makes him truly brave; the ongoing war against his own brain and somehow managing to keep going and put one foot in front of the other.

*****

She checks on them an hour later; father and son fast asleep on a twin bed riddled with wrinkled sheets and stuffed animals. A long and muscular body looking even more so in such a small confined space; impossibly long legs stretching the length of the mattress, feet dangling over the edge. Tyler rests on his back with Takota on top of him; a flushed cheek pressed against a broad chest, strong, tattooed arms wrapped tightly around a tiny body, and a large hand protectively placed in the middle of a slowly rising and falling back. Both snoring lightly; lips slightly parted and their eyelids flickering as they dream, hair already mussed and slightly damp from sweat. She pauses at the side of the bed; running fingers through thick tresses and pressing kisses to foreheads; eyes closed as she breathes in the familiar scents that cling to both of their bodies. The biggest and the smallest men in her life; both so beautiful and perfect. Takota with his meek and mild disposition; shy to a fault and profoundly sensitive. Tyler with his enormous body and the scars and blemishes serving as reminders of a hard life; his heart so big and proud and loving with so much power and fierceness. It’s a side not many get to see; knowing him solely as a ‘tough guy’ with a checkered past and blood on his hands. But to know him...TRULY know him...is an honour bestowed on a select view; privy to what makes him laugh and what brings out that smile that reaches his eyes and what touches his heart and brings out that softer, more vulnerable side. 

She had been one of the lucky ones; giving him an understanding and non judgmental ear and a safe place to land even from day one. He’d opened up easily and effortlessly. The first night in Dhaka -as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and naked, sweaty limbs- confiding in her about the loss of his son and how the terrible choice he’d made at led him to the job; his drinking problem getting him kicked out of SASR, war injuries sustained leading to an addiction pain medication, the extent of his guilt, regret, and grief driving him to choose a dangerous yet fairly lucrative career. He DID have a death wish; he didn’t deny it and had confessed that he’d been too scared to do the deed himself and that with every job he took, he hoped and prayed a sniper’s bullet would finally hit its mark. He couldn’t understand WHY it hadn’t happened yet; why was he allowed to keep living when he abandoned his own child while he was suffering so badly? Was it punishment? Was he destined to live a life on the edge yet never meet his demise? Was that the plan? Make him suffer as much as possible -mentally and physically- but not actually kill him? It was the first time a man had ever been that open and honest with her; Mark was extremely closed off and strayed far away from sharing feelings and showing emotion. And her ex-boyfriends had been high school classmates; young and immature and with relatively clean slates. 

Tyler had been different. She’d recognized it the moment she met him; his hands surprisingly soft and gentle despite the calluses on his palms and the damaged, misshapen knuckles. He had beautiful eyes; brilliant blue yet possessing a staggering amount of sadness, his smile never reaching them. He was a man with deep, profound secrets and a lot of pain; both physical AND emotional. It had been less than half an hour; from the time she’d stepped onto his front porch and their gaze had met through the open door to when she’d left to join Nik and Yaz on the flight to Fitzroy Crossing. Yet she’d found him intriguing. His simple way of life in that ramshackle house; built by hand and poorly maintained yet obviously giving him a sense of home and security. The tattoos and the scars and the strong, powerful build and a shockingly handsome face. A man that came with quite the reputation; skilled and savage and seemingly fearless. Someone with a dark, dangerous and mysterious past yet the kindest hands and one of the softest -if not entirely genuine- smiles she’d ever come across. And she’d liked that smile; the way he would tuck his chin into his chest and give a small chuckle and the corners of his mouth would just ever so slightly lift. And despite those humble surroundings and his simple attire, he’d smelled so good; a mixture of fresh air and salt water and the slightest tinges of coconut and whiskey. 

The attraction had been there; right from that first handshake. She can remember thinking how it wouldn’t be so bad to just give in to primal urges; indulge in nothing more than mindless, no strings attached sex. To just surrender to physical and sexual attraction; allowing herself nothing more than being pleasured and pleasuring someone in return. After all, there was no chance anything COULD come of it; the job was no place to find a romantic partner and with thousands of miles between their homes, there was no possibility of ever really getting the chance to connect and get to know one another. A second marriage and children had never been in her wheelhouse; Mark destroying her and breaking her and stripping her down to a weakened and more vulnerable version of herself. She wouldn’t go through that again; give her heart and all her trust and faithfulness to one man, only to have them betray and hurt her. And that’s all she’d really wanted it to be; sex with an incredibly attractive man with a dark and dangerous reputation. She didn’t have the time or tolerance for anything BUT that; enjoying being single and independent and not feeling as if she had to answer to anyone.

In the blink of an eye, it all changed. That first night in Dhaka turning out to be much more than she ever expected or bargained for. Seeing him in a way he didn’t let anyone else see him; trusting her and confiding in her and being as raw and honest and vulnerable as he could possibly be. And she’d turned around and done the same; talking about the loss of her father and her abusive marriage and the loss of her identity and her journey to find it again. Mindless, no strings attached sex quickly became something so much more; the deep and intense conversations, the way he’d smile -genuinely smile- when she’d tease him about his accent or about how tall he was or how big his feet were. The way those big, strong arms felt when they wrapped around her and drew her tightly into him. And it was the exchange of long and soft kisses even though she’d told herself she wouldn’t do THAT; kissing way too personal and leading to the development of feelings. Which were way too dangerous. 

She’d gone into it expecting something purely physical and came out with so much more. A best friend. A confidant. A protector. A lover that turned into a husband and who had helped her make seven beautiful, incredible little human beings. Someone so wounded and damaged that loves so profoundly; a man that worships her and loves her with everything he is and everything he has. Who will protect her at all costs. Who has proven time and time again that he has her back no matter what; willing to suffer and die for her if need be.

It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. It brings tears to her eyes even now as she stands at the side of the bed and watches him sleep; his face and body relaxed and peaceful. She pushes her fingers through his hair and brushes it away from his forehead; lips meeting smooth, warm skin. And when she goes to step away, he reaches for her; fingers capturing her hand and bringing it to his face; his eyes never opening as soft, warm lips press against her palm.

*****

“Nugget?” Esme raps her knuckles against the wooden barn door that closes the bottom bunk off to the rest of the room. “Are you awake in there?”

TJ and Declan have long departed; holed up in the family room with Millie and Alannah as the four quietly and civilly play a board game. Tanner had a hard time; seeing grandma again after so many years had been a difficult and nerve wracking moment for him. But he’d done his best despite the lingering trauma her treatment of him and the things she’d said have left behind; politely answering questions and thanking her for the Christmas gift, but refusing to show or accept any form of affection. Sometimes it’s all he can do to hold it together long enough for the simplest of greetings, and he’d done exceptionally given the troubled past with his grandmother. But he’d fled when she’d tried to get too close; screaming ‘no!’ in her face and pushing her away and then dissolving into tears as he fled the room and rushed upstairs to his safe place.

“I’m awake.” The little voice is shaky and higher pitched than usual; the remnants of tears and his meltdown noticeable.

“I thought I’d come and check on you. Are you okay? How are you doing in there?”

“I’m okay.” He sniffles noisily. “I’m fine.”

“I brought you a snack. One of those wraps that daddy makes; peanut butter with banana and chocolate syrup and coconut shavings. That’s your favourite, right?”

“Right.”

“Daddy didn’t make it, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I’ve been taking lessons from him; on how to make it EXACTLY how you like it. It comes with a glass of chocolate milk. If that makes my meal preparations any easier to stomach.”

Tanner manages a small laugh. “You’re not THAT bad at cooking, mummy. You’ve gotten a lot better. Daddy and I are teaching you pretty good.”

Esme chuckles. “You really are. Do you want it? Your snack?”

“Not right this second, but thank you. Can you put it close by? Where I can reach it easy?”

“I’ll put it right beside your bed,” she says, and then sets the items on the ground and fetches the chair from his desk; setting it beside the bottom bunk and then carefully placing the treats on the seat. “Daddy’s taking a nap, but when he gets up, we’re going to do gingerbread houses. I know how much you always enjoy that. Will you join us?”

“Will grandma be there?”

“She’s not into that kind of thing. I’m sure she’ll just hang out in the living room with grandpa. You don’t have to worry about her, okay? You just stick real close to daddy. He’ll keep you safe and sound. He always does, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to do your thing. Your snack is waiting for you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll be downstairs, alright?”

“Mumma?” A faint of rustling of sheets and then the click of the lock; a little face appearing as the door slides open. “Do you really have to go?”

“I don’t have to go anywhere. I just wanted to give you your space. But no. I don’t have to go.”

“Will you snuggle with me for a bit? We haven’t snuggled in a while. I miss it; mummy snuggles.”

Smiling, she toes off her slippers and climbs into the bottom bunk; Tanner sliding his smaller body over towards the wall and giving her ample space. 

“You can be the big spoon,” he offers, and rolls onto his side and presses his back into her front. “You never get to the big spoon, I bet.”

“Not once in the last twelve and a half years,” she says, and drapes a leg over his and curls an arm around his waist. “Daddy is NOT fond of being the little spoon. He’s much more comfortable being the big spoon.”

“That’s because of toxic masculinity.”

“Something tells me you’re right.” She settles the side of her face against his pillow and stretches her arm out along the mattress; fingers repeatedly brushing through his hair. Pressing a kiss to the back of his head when she feels him lace his fingers through hers and then tightly squeezes her hand. 

“Mumma?”

“Nugget?”

“I don’t like grandma.”

‘I know you don’t. And you don’t have to. I understand why you feel the way you do. And you have every right to feel it. She’s done a lot of bad things. And SAID a lot of bad things.”

“About daddy.” His voice quivers once again.

“About daddy,” Esme confirms, and tightens her hold on him. “But you know what? Nothing she says matters. Because we know it’s not true. We know that he’s a really good man. A really good daddy.”

“The best daddy ever. If I could pick daddies, I’d pick him. A million times over. Why does she hate him? Why does she say mean things about him?”

“I don’t know, baby boy. I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. I know it hurts; to hear people say horrible things about him. It hurts me too.”

“She said daddy was going to hell. Because you and him made Millie before you were married. Is that true?”

“No, baby. It’s not true. Daddy is NOT going to hell.”

“And she said she wished daddy would just die already,” Tanner bursts into tears; body shaking with the ferocity of his sobs. “That we’d be better off without him. That it would be better if he died. It wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be better AT ALL.”

“Nugget...come here…” She waits until he rolls onto his side to gather her into her arms. Pressing a series of kisses to the side of his head and his temple and his cheek; fingers buried in his hair as she holds him close. “...I am so sorry. That you had to hear those things. I am so, so, SO sorry.”

“Why would she say that? Why would she want daddy to die? Doesn’t she know we’d miss him? How sad we’d be? Does she hate him THAT much? Does she hate US? Is that why she doesn’t care if we’d be sad?”

“Tanner, I don’t know. I don’t know why she says the things she does. But she doesn’t hate you. She just wasn’t thinking; when she said the things she did. And I really am sorry. That she said those things about daddy. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something? When did this happen?”

“When you and daddy were in Ireland. And grandma came to help Ovi with us. Right before Ovi took us away. Grandma got mad because we were being bad. We were fighting and causing lots of noise and she got upset and that’s when she said it. She said that she wished you never met daddy. And that he was nothing but trouble and that we’d all be better off if he died already. If someone did us a favour and killed him.”

“Oh my God, Tanner. You’ve been holding onto that all this time?”

He nods.

“Baby boy…” She fights back against her own tears; a mixture of heartache and rage; hands shaking as her fingertips clear away the tears on her son’s cheeks. “...you should have told mommy. You should have called me and told me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you. And I didn’t want you telling daddy. I was worried if you told him, he’d get mad and you’d get into a fight and then he’d leave again. He’d move out like he did last time, only he wouldn’t come back. Ever.”

“Tanner, that never would have happened. Daddy and I never would have fought over that. And he never would have left us. What happened way back then? When he did leave and was gone for a while? Things were bad between us. Really bad. Remember?”

He nods.

“But daddy never would have gotten mad at you if you told him what grandma said. He would have been angry at her, but not at you. Or me. He would've done whatever he could to protect you from her. Daddy loves you so much. More than he loves himself. He would never, EVER, get mad at you for something like that.”

“I don’t want him to know. Don’t tell him, mummy. Please don't tell him. I don’t want it to hurt his brain. I don’t want it to make his brain sad.”

“Tanner, you have to…”

“No,” he insists. “I won’t tell him. And you won’t either. Please promise, mummy. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Esme relents. “I won’t tell him. That’s your secret to tell. And you will one day. When you’re ready. When you think daddy is ready to hear it.”

“I don’t want him to die,” Tanner sobs. “I don’t want daddy to die.”

“He’s not going to die, Nugget. He’s here and he’s safe and sound. With us. He’s in the next room; napping with Takota.”

He sniffles. “Yeah?”

“Yup. I was just in there. They’re fast asleep, snoring away. Daddy is safe. He’s with us. He’s not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want him to go away ever again. It’s scary when he leaves. I’m always afraid he’s not going to come back.”

“So am I,” she admits. “I worry about the exact same thing.”

“Tell him he can’t leave anymore. Tell him that he has to stay. With us. That he’s not allowed to go. Tell him, mumma. Please tell him.”

“I will,” she promises, and cradles his face in her hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I am so sorry, Nugget. That you ever had to hear that. I know how much you love daddy. And believe me, he loves you just as much. Remember what I told you? About how he stayed with you in the hospital when you were born? When you were sick? And he didn’t want you to be alone?”

He nods. “And he picked my name.”

“He did. He loved the name Tanner. We wanted two T names, and that’s the one he picked right away and that’s the one he stuck with. That’s pretty cool, huh? That you’re the one daddy named?”

“It’s really cool. I like that; that he picked my name. It’s really special. Knowing he did.”

“Well you’re very special. You always have been. Right from the very beginning. You were so tiny when you were born; you fit right in the palm of daddy’s hand and your toes didn’t reach his wrist.”

“That IS tiny!”

“It is. You were super tiny. And daddy wouldn’t leave your side. He stayed in the special nursery with you and he slept in a chair beside your bed and he made sure you got the best care and the best nurses. He wasn’t leaving you alone. He knew that you needed him. And you know what? He needed YOU too.”

“He did?”

“He did. He needed that time with you. You and your brother were the first boys after Austin. That’s a pretty big deal. Daddy never thought he’d have any kids again, never mind a boy He got two! At the same time. That was pretty special for him. Getting not just one son, but two.”

“Did he cry?”

“He did. He cried when he got to hold TJ and he cried when he got to hold you. He was the only one who got to hold you right away. Because you needed help and they sent you to the special nursery to be looked after. And he went with you and never left. Not until I was able to come and see you.”

“That’s proof, you know. That daddy loves me.”

“He loves you so much, Tanner. More than he could ever tell you. You have no idea how much he loves you. How proud he is of you. And he’s pretty good, right? As a daddy?”

“He’s an awesome daddy. All the kids at school are jealous. ‘Cause he’s big and has muscles and cool tattoos. None of their dads have those things. Just mine. Their dads are lame. My dad’s cool.” He rubs his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “If you met daddy a different way, would you have still fallen in love with him?”

“I imagine I would have. I can’t see why not. He’d still be daddy; he’d still look the same. And it’s kind of hard NOT to love him.”

“How would you have met him? If you guys didn't do the same job?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I would have gone to Australia on a trip and met him that way. Or maybe he would have come to Colorado and we would have bumped into each other somewhere. What do you think?”

“A singles cruise.”

“A singles cruise?” Esme laughs. “Why a singles cruise? And how do you even know about those?”

“I saw a commercial on tv. And then I googled it. I bet you and daddy would have met on a singles cruise.”

“I don’t know about that, Nugget. Daddy isn’t really the cruise kind of guy.”

“Maybe you would have met at the supermarket. On your trip to Australia. Maybe he would have been in line in front of you when you were waiting to pay for your groceries. Or maybe he would have been behind you and when you didn’t have enough money, he’d give you some. Or pay for your stuff. Daddy would do that; pay for a pretty girl’s stuff.”

“I kind of like that idea. Meeting my knight in shining armour at the grocery store. Him coming to my rescue right when I needed it.”

“You still would have liked him? If you met him that way?”

“I definitely would have. A handsome guy doing something like THAT? How could I not?”

“And he’d still look like daddy. He’d have the blue eyes and the cool hair and the big muscles. And the nice butt.”

Esme laughs. “Yeah, he would. I would have for sure noticed all of that.”

“You would have went out with him if he asked you on a date?”

“I definitely would have. I probably would have even let him kiss me.”

Tanner’s eyes widen. “On the first date? Mummy, that’s scandalous!”

“Hey, when you know, you know. And I knew. Pretty quick. That your daddy was the one for me.”

“Did he know too? That you were the one for him?”

“I don’t know. I THINK he did. He won’t admit it, though.”

“I’m going to ask him. If he knew right away you were the one for him. He’ll tell me. I know he will.”

“Well good luck with that. Are we good here? Are you calm now? Are you glad you told me what you did?”

Tanner nods. “I feel a hundred pounds lighter. That was a lot to carry around. Especially for so long. You’re not going to tell daddy, right?”

“I promised I wouldn't. But I really think YOU should.”

“I will when I’m ready. I swear I will.”

“Okay,” she agrees, then smooths his hair away from his face and presses a kiss to his brow. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too. Thank you for being my mum.”

“Thank you FOR picking me to be your mom.”

“And thanks for having sex with daddy. If you didn’t, none of us would be here.”

She laughs at that. “You know what, it was a difficult thing to do, but I managed. And I’ll let you know that you appreciate his participation. And his cooperation.”

“You know…” Tanner flops onto his back, hands behind his head. “...you and daddy make a weird couple. Not weird in a bad way. Just a different way.”

Esme props herself up on her elbow, cheek resting in her upturned palm. “How so?”

“You’re so tiny and he’s so big. It’s funny when you stand side by side or when you walk down the street together. Because it’s SO noticeable; how tall he is and how short you are. And it’s really sweet; when he goes to kiss you and you stand on the top of his feet AND on your tiptoes and he STILL has to bend down.”

“Well what can I say? Your dad is freakishly tall.”

“And you’re freakishly tiny.”

“Hey!” She reaches out to tickle his tummy; smiling at the way his eyes scrunch shut and he giggles. “Don’t you start taking after him when it comes to trash talking my height!”

“Daddy’s right, mum. You ARE small enough for him to pick you up and put in his pocket. And that’s cute. REALLY cute.”

“YOU’RE cute,” she says, and places a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to go and get daddy up and get him started on setting up all the stuff for gingerbread houses. You going to join us?” 

“In a while. I want to have my snack first.”

She tousles his hair and pecks his lips before sliding off the bunk. “I’ve got it ready and waiting, good sir. I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Do you want things closed back up?”

“No. I’m okay now. Thanks, mum.”

“See you soon,” she says, and presses a kiss to two of her fingertips and then reaches out and places them against the tip of his nose. “Bring the dirty dishes downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” Tanner agrees. “Mumma?”

Esme pauses in the doorway. 

“Thank you. For loving me like you do.”

Smiling through the threatening flood of tears, she swallows noisily around the lump of emotion sitting square in her throat. “You make it very easy, Nugget.”


End file.
